


Love on the silver screen

by Hotaru_Tomoe



Series: Bullets [23]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Falling In Love, Filming, Gossip, M/M, Metafiction, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Valoris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru_Tomoe/pseuds/Hotaru_Tomoe
Summary: Boris Shcherbina is a popular Ukrainian actor who plays a nuclear physicist in a tv miniseries, Valery Legasov is a true scientist called to act as a consultant on it.Lights, camera, action!
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Series: Bullets [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372144
Comments: 107
Kudos: 139





	1. Scene 1 - Take 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost needless to say that this fanfiction - at times slightly meta - is the result of my being a fan of Stellan Skarsgard and his works, as well as my love for the world of entertainment show biz in general.  
> The story is set in a world similar to the USSR, but it doesn't fully compliant to the factual reality.
> 
> It's from books, movies, TV series, comics, and radio drama that fanfictions are born, so this is also my way to pay homage to that world.

"What do you think, Boris?" Ulana asked, pointing to the script that the actor had in front of him.

It was a television miniseries, three episodes of an hour and a half eachs, focused on nuclear energy: a scientist supervised the inauguration of a new nuclear power plant, something went wrong and an accident was about to happen, but in the end the scientist managed to avoid it.

However, there would have been not only action and pathos, but also scientific accuracy regarding the functioning of the nuclear reactor and the possible accident. In short, no lame science fiction technobabble.

Vladimir Pikalov's script was solid and well structured, the plot was tick, the story had a great rhythm and was engaging, the characters were multifaceted and interesting.

Boris couldn’t deny it, he was already intrigued.

“It’s an excellent project. Do you already know who the director will be?"

"Viktor Bryukhanov."

"Wow, the spearhead of Mosfilm." [1]

"So, do you accept? It would be a different role for you."

Ulana knew that her client loved to engage in the most disparate roles, from the popular TV series to art cinema, to improvisation theater: he didn’t like the idea of pigeonhole himself in only one kind of role, and even if he had never become famous to the point of winning a Vasilyev Brothers or a Nika award [2], he was talented, known and highly appreciated.

Boris scratched an eyebrow and smiled at his agent: “Without a doubt, I never played a nuclear physicist. You say I can be a credible scientist?"

"You can be whatever you want, Boris."

The actors' ego was extremely fragile, and Ulana knew how to give strategic pats on the shoulder to support it.

"The idea is intriguing, but if there are scientific inaccuracies in a series like this, people will jump on us, or mock the series. Furthermore, it wouldn’t be correct toward the audience to spread misinformation on such a serious topic."

"You don't have to worry about this: Sitnikov, one of the producers, told me that he asked for advice from a nuclear physics professor of the State University, who will review the script, correct any inaccuracies, and give all the information you need."

Boris was happy that Anatoly Sitnikov was involved in the project: he already knew him, the man left a lot of creative freedom to the directors, and didn't skimp on the money to invest. A well done TV series had costs as high as a movie: forgetting this detail led to poor results.

"Great. How long will filming last?"

“They will start in four months and should last a couple of months at most, three if the weather during the external shoots doesn't cooperate. However, it will end in time before the movie directed by Tarakanov."

Currently Boris was working in theater in Gogol's _"Dead Souls"_ [3] for another two months, and the one directed by Tarakanov was the next film where he had to work, but at the moment it was undergoing some delay, because the punctilious director wasn’t at all satisfied with the locations, and had had disagreements with one of the writers - then turned away from the project. But at the moment, everything was stopped, so Boris had time to work on another production that wasn't too long.

"You've thought of everything," he said to Ulana.

The woman smiled, "You pay me for this."

"Well, you can give my word to Sitnikov that I accept the role and, since I pay you handsomely, take care also of the whole outline."

 _"The whole outline"_ were the remuneration and the legal clauses of the contract.

Boris loved acting very much, it was his whole life, but he hated the contractual part of his work and the trammels that contracts often contemplated, for this reason he had chosen one of the best agents in the Soviet Union, who also had solid legal knowledge.

"As always," Ulana replied with a chuckle.

"I pay you for this," Boris echoed with a slightly grumpy smile.

"Then I'll go," Ulana said, putting down the cup of tea that the actor had offered her, ready to discuss the details of the contract with the production.

"One last thing: when they have chosen the scientist who will help us, I would like to know him and work closely with him, if possible."

"Of course."

Apparently, Boris was already entering in the character.

When Davit Garo stopped in front of the elegant building in the Presnensky district, Vitaly Charkov was already waiting on the sidewalk. His face was as expressionless as that of a sphinx, but Garo could feel the irritation radiating in waves from the lawyer.

Yes, he was late, but only a few minutes and because there was a terrible traffic: if Charkov complained, he was ready to bark him to go to hell.

He pulled up to the sidewalk to get him up.

"Let’s go, quickly. After this, I have another job commitment in two hours and I don't want to be late because of you," Charkov said in a monotonous voice. It seemed that he almost didn't move his lips when he spoke.

He had sat in the back seat, as if Garo was only a driver and not a member of the production staff: the arrogance of the head of the legal firm on which the film studio relied was well known to everyone, unfortunately.

Since Charkov hadn’t put on his belt so as not to crease his elegant suit, Garo had the strong temptation to brake abruptly at the first red light, only for the sake of hearing the lawyer's nose impact against the front seat, but as far as Sitnikov was patient and understanding, he wouldn’t have liked that.

"What's the name of this scientist we have to meet?"

"Valery Legasov. The Rector of the university recommends him because he has already participated in some tv shows about science," Garo explained, "Sitnikov has watched them and believes Legasov is suitable to be our consultant, since he can explain complicated concepts in clear and accessible for all terms."

"Well, we'll see if it goes through."

"Beg your fucking pardon?" Garo snapped, frowning.

"I must give my opinion on the economic convenience of involving a scientific consultant in the production, and I can’t already say if it will be positive: I haven’t yet spoken to this professor Legasov."

"What is this shit about? Sitnikov demands the utmost scientific accuracy for this miniseries, and we can’t guarantee it without a scientist!"

“Comrade Sitnikov is only one member of the film studio and, like everyone who works in the world of cinema, is a dreamer. The bakers, fortunately, are down to earth and are concerned with practical problems: this entertainment product is not a charity, it must bring a profit, so if the fee that the professor asks will be too expensive, I’ll not give my approval to his involvement."

"But…"

"If comrade Sitnikov consider this professor so indispensable, he can pay for him out of his own pocket," replied the lawyer dryly.

 _“Sitnikov will get mad, if something goes wrong,”_ thought Garo with a dark look, _“and me too: without a scientist, it will be a disaster. Fuck this tosser."_

Professor Legasov wore glasses with thick lenses, similar to those of Charkov, but the serious appearance was mitigated by a jovial smile and a still freckled face despite his age.

He made the guests sit at the desk in his office, cluttered with books, papers and reports from his students, and asked his secretary to bring them tea.

Garo liked him immediately: Legasov showed a genuine interest in their miniseries and was very competent.

He was about to hand him the script, so that Legasov had an idea of the work that awaited him, when Charkov stopped him with a lazy gesture of the hand.

“Whether you work for this production or not, Professor, not a word about the script has to come out of this room. If rumors arrive on TV and newspapers before the official publicity launch, there will be consequences," the lawyer warned, saying the words slowly, as if he was talking to a child who was a little slow in understanding.

Garo found him deeply offensive, but fortunately the professor didn't take offence.

"Of course, of course, I understand. You have my word that my lips are sealed." He smiled, picked up the script and leafed through it, marveling at its size: "There are many pages for a miniseries."

"Many scenes will be cut in the final montage," Garo explained, "but in the script we put all the possible scenarios: this offers us greater freedom of action in leading the story in one direction or another, and allows us variations in progress. This is why we ask you to review the entire script, even if it may seem like a waste of time."

“On the contrary, that of the cinema is a world that I have always found very fascinating. Of course I’ll need time for a review and I’ve to reconcile this work with my students' exams..."

Legasov flipped through a large, battered-looking agenda full of bookmarks, but Charkov raised his hand again.

Garo wanted to cut it off with a letter opener.

"First of all, it’s necessary to discuss your fee: since you already know how a tv production works, I’ll not insult your intelligence by reminding you that there is a budget to be respected and external consultancy is not an essential part of the production."

Valery understood perfectly well what the cold lawyer was trying to tell him: _"Ask too much and this will end up in nothing."_

He wasn't really interested in the fee, to be honest: he already had a job that paid well, that was an interesting diversion for him, as well as an opportunity to do some scientific information to a wider audience than his students.

"I'm not an expert," Valery shielded, shrugging, "make me an offer."

The sum pronounced by Charkov was so low that Garo started: people who did location scouting and set decorators were paid more. He was about to speak, but Legasov smiled and said he accepted.

"Very well," said Charkov.

Garo spoke again: “Once the script has been revised by you, it will return to Valdimir Pikalov, the screenwriter. It may be that not all of your suggestions are accepted: a tv production has its own rules about the pace and the cut of the story, which don’t always coincide with reality. It’s an entertainment product, not a university lesson: I hope this is not a problem."

Legasov chuckled, amused: "Oh no, I know that the scientific explanations are verbose and certainly not exciting."

"And it may be that Pikalov contacts you or wants to work with you to polish the script more."

"I'm available."

"Then I'd say that's all."

“Just one thing, if I can ask. Do you already know who will play the leading scientist in the story?"

"It will be Boris Shcherbina."

"Sh-Shcherbina?" Valery's mouth opened in a perfect "O".

"Something wrong, professor?" Charkov asked.

"No, no... it's just that... it's a very important name... I wasn't expecting it."

Hell, he certainly couldn’t confess to the two men sitting in front of him that he was a fervent admirer of the Ukrainian actor.

Charkov narrowed his eyes: "Well, it's a very expensive production, we want everything to be perfect and that nothing can ruin it." He took two copies of the contract out of his briefcase and handed them to Legasov, "Read each clause carefully, before returning a signed copy."

Having said that, he got up, buttoning his jacket.

"Yes... yes," replied the scientist, blinking, a little perplexed.

Once outside of Legasov's office, Garo lost his patience definitively.

"What the fuck was it? You almost threatened that poor man!" he snapped in the elevator.

"You think about doing your job, and I think about doing mine," replied the lawyer with ill-concealed impatience.

Once out on the street, Charkov asked to be taken to his next business meeting, but Garo laughed at him.

"Not a chance."

"Excuse me?"

“You were the one who said me to do my job, and it doesn’t include chauffeuring you around Moscow. Call a taxi."

Charkov shook his head with a heavy sigh: creative people, they were so sensitive. Fortunately, there were men like him to stem their chaotic behaviours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Mosfil'm is an existing Russian film studio, founded in 1920, one of the oldest in the world. You can book a guided tour of the studios!
> 
> [2] Both awards for the world of cinema and entertainment in the Soviet Union first and then in Russia. The Vasilyev Brothers award existed from 1966 to 1990, while the Nika was created in 1987 and is still in existence today.
> 
> [3] "Dead Souls" is a novel by Nikolai Gogol (1842), about the travels of Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov and his encounters with various characters, who represent the Russian middle class of the time. It has been adapted several times as a theatrical piece, movie, and even as a BBC radio drama.


	2. Scene 1 - Take 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks go to Litttlesilkworm for discovering that the set of Valery's apartment, in the HBO series, has been filled with small houseplants, so in this story Valery is a plants lover.

The rest of the day was full of commitments for Legasov, starting from the students tutoring, but once at home, after having dinner and watering his plants, he sat in an armchair with the script and an incredulous smile on his face: Boris Shcherbina, he couldn’t believe it!

In the library, next to the many textbooks and his publications for scientific journals, there was a shelf full of VHS: _The chase of scarlet March, Riding the tide, The concrete house, Oh papa, A very rude man, In a chaotic appearance, Creek..._ it wasn't hard to guess that Shcherbina was Valery's favorite actor. [1]

After a few glasses of vodka that loosened his tongue, he also dared to confess that he had a small celebrity crush on him.

He shook his head, reproaching himself for being foolish: his job was only to review and correct the script to give it a more scientific cut, they certainly wouldn’t have let him participate in the filming, which would have been much later, therefore he wouldn't have met Shcherbina in person.

Knowing himself, maybe it was better this way: Valery knew that his face was an open book, it was very easy to read all the emotions on it. Even his students, during the exams, knew if they were doing well or if they were saying something wrong, because of how Legasov frowned.

And Legasov was aware that he had to keep his emotions for Shcherbina well hidden.

However, perhaps he could contact the actor's agent to have his copy of the script autographed?

"Enough with the fantasies, get to work," he muttered to himself.

As the lawyer had suggested, he first read the contract with the film studio: he undertook to provide his scientific advice for the whole duration of the production; neither the director nor the screenwriter were obliged to follow his directions, but in that case Valery could ask and get that his name wasn’t mentioned in the end credits.

 _"I understand that,"_ he thought, _"they are the ones who put the money in, it’s right that they decide the direction of the story."_

In addition, Valery took the responsibility for the scientific theses expressed and then used in the miniseries, pledged not to talk to anyone about the show or his collaboration in it until the official publicity launch, which would have been managed by the Mosfilm. And if anyone wanted to interview him, it had to be previously agreed with the film studio.

Finally, there was a paragraph called "morality clause" which committed him not to behave in a way that could be offensive or harmful to the image of the film studio and the series, otherwise they would have sued him.

Valery scratched his temple with the pen, perplexed: how could talking about nuclear fission be offensive? He didn't get it.

He shrugged, signed the two copies of the contract, and then opened the script.

His idea was to immediately correct the biggest mistakes and mark the points that needed further study, but soon he found himself totally carried away by the story.

He had never read a script and it was an engaging experience: it wasn’t simply a string of dialogues between characters, there were many more descriptions than he expected (of course, the actors had to know with what mood to approach the scene). In the end it wasn't much different from a novel.

When Legasov looked up at the old clock of the living room he widened his eyes: it was three in the morning.

He had read continuously for hours, reaching almost halfway through the second episode, without writing anything. Captured by the plot, his brain had only marginally registered the inaccuracies.

He took off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes: it was better to work on it the next day with a fresh mind.

However, he was unable to do so until he finished reading everything. Of course, there were several scientific inaccuracies and dialogues to be corrected, but the story itself? It was pleasant and compelling, he was sure that the public would be thrilled.

The only part that made him roll his eyes was the romantic story between the leading scientist and a young female colleague. In reality, the sentimental life of an academician was as flat as the Great Steppe, but in a fiction the good, dear, old _"and they all lived happily ever after,"_ was almost mandatory.

However, he thought as he blushed, the screenwriter hadn't skimped on the details in describing the sex scene.

He wondered how the actors managed to stay naked in a bed and not be embarrassed; Shcherbina in particular: he was a multifaceted actor, he had played several roles, but he was well-known for a film that, well, if not erotic, was certainly very salacious. [2]

Valery had watched it so often to the point of consuming the VHS, and now he couldn’t help but think to the scene where...

"Idiot! You're an idiot!" Valery exclaimed, jumping to his feet, while he felt his cheeks burning: now he would no longer chase that image out of his head.

At the end of his review, Valery returned the script to Garo and, as the producer's assistant had said, he was contacted by Vladimir Pikalov in his studio to discuss on some further details.

"I understand that accuracy is important," the screenwriter said during one of their meetings, "But if the scene was written as you suggest, I fear that many viewers would be bored and wouldn’t be able to follow the dialogue, it’s too long and technical."

"I understand," Valery laughed, "It actually happens to my first year students too."

"What if the scene is like this?" Pikalov wrote something with impressive speed and submitted another version of the scene to him.

Valery read and nodded: “It's perfect! It’s correct from a scientific point of view, and at the same time it’s interesting. I love the story you wrote, it's so addicting!"

"I enjoy such enthusiasm."

Valery feared he had shown a excessive fervor and hurried to apologize, but Pikalov patted him on the shoulder and handed him a glass of vodka, "No, I mean it: everyone goes crazy about the director, the actors, the score, and we who work in the backstage end up being overshadowed."

"It's a shame, you do a wonderful job."

"Thanks again. But, speaking of actors, Boris Shcherbina wants to meet you."

For the surprise, Valery choked on his vodka.

The contract obliged him to provide scientific advice at every stage of the production, but he was sure that his work was now over.

If the lead actor wanted to know him, something had gone wrong for sure.

"W-Why?" he asked when he stopped coughing, "Is he dissatisfied with something I wrote?"

"No, no," Pikalov replied, surprised by the anxiety shown by the scientist, "Ulana Khomyuk, the agent of Shcherbina, says he wants some advice from you."

"From me? But... but I don't know anything about an actor's job!" Valery stammered, increasingly agitated.

"Advice on how to play a credible scientist," Pikalov pointed out with a smile, "You aren’t very familiar with the Stanislavskij method, are you?" [3]

"I'm afraid I’m not," Valery replied, more relaxed.

And so he would meet Boris Shcherbina...

He was tempted to ask Pikalov if he could give him some quick lessons to learn how to hide and manage his emotions.

Boris’ theater play came to an end a few days after Professor Legasov had finished revising the screenplay of the miniseries, which in the meantime had also acquired a title, _"Infinite impact"_ , that is what would have happened if there had been the accident that his character, Ruslan Petrovich Koval, had to prevent.

He read it with great attention and, although he didn’t know anything about nuclear physics, he thought that the corrections made had given the script a more rigorous cut from a scientific point of view, compared to the first version that Ulana had submitted to him, but at the same time it was still accessible to the audience.

He liked it.

He couldn't wait to meet Comrade Legasov: he was under the impression that he was an interesting man and, studying him closely, he could steal the secrets to play a textbook scientist.

Boris began to read his lines aloud, in front of the mirror: the first choral reading of the script was approaching and he wanted to be ready. [4]

Many colleagues of him didn’t give much importance to that task, but according to Boris it was a fundamental moment in any production: it was the first time where the cast and director met all together. They discussed the story, how to develop the characters, the tones to give to the dialogues and, above all, they understood how the actors interacted with each other.

Chemistry.

It was all about chemistry between different personalities, and it was important, because you could have a script that was a bomb, you could have award-winning actors in the cast, but if that spark didn't fire, the final product lacked soul, and the audience was able to perceive it.

In his long career Boris had found himself in both situations: there had been productions in which he got on like a house of fire with his colleagues for all the duration of the shooting, and there had been times in which they had remained distant, cold, even without having fighted.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the lounge made available to them by Mosfilm, Boris relaxed: he could already perceive a nice, informal, friendly and relaxed mood.

Svetlana Zinchenko, who played the female main character, was chatting with Bryukhanov: she came from a long-lived TV series in which she played a doctor in a countryside hospital and, with the role in _"Infinite Impact"_ she wanted to break away from that character, much loved by the audience, but now a little outdated.

Shcherbina was about to approach and greet them when he was intercepted by Dyatlov and Akimov.

"Ah, here they are, my two rivals!" he exclaimed, placing a hand on their shoulders.

The two colleagues, with whom Boris had already worked in the past, respectively played the antagonist scientist, who was aware of a reactor construction defect but decided to stay silent, and a corrupt politician who covered him for economic reasons.

"This time our roles are reversed," Dyatlov laughed: when he had worked with Boris, it was the latter who played the villain in the story, "and I must say that Pikalov made a commitment to making my character particularly hateful."

Boris gave him a sympathetic look and hoped that the audience could keep the actor separate from the character, because in real life Dyatlov was a nice, decent man.

"At least Bryukhanov has given you the permission to keep your mustache," Akimov complained, "I will have to cut mine and I will also be without glasses. I'll be practically blind."

Then Fomin, the assistant director, invited everyone to sit around the table and the reading began.

It was exciting: the whole cast immediately fell into their respective roles, and the dialogues flowed fluidly between them.

Boris and Svetlana decided to take advantage of their age difference to go beyond the simple May-December romantic relationship, also stressing the mentor-pupil aspect, and Pikalov approved their idea, making some last minute changes on the script. [5]

The actress aimed to create a character with an indomitable and gritty personality, and Boris understood that Ruslan had to be the opposite, to have a harmony between them: two strong personalities would end up going into conflict and their falling in love wouldn’t have been credible.

Boris' character therefore had to be quieter and more peaceful, he reflected as he returned home. It wouldn’t have been easy for him, with his imposing physique and his voice. In fact almost all the characters he had played in his career were charismatic, because the directors saw this in him.

But he would have thought of something, starting from his physical appearance: a character had to be recreated to perfection in all its components.

A few days later Boris was in the salon of Marina Gruzinskaya, the make-up artist of the series, and he spoke to her about his idea of the physical appearance he wanted for Ruslan.

The eccentric woman nodded, making the numerous necklaces she wore jingle, rolled up the sleeves of her electric blue sweater, made him sit on the armchair and stood behind him, resting her fingers on his temples.

"Honey, leave it to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Easter egg: can you guess the titles of Stellan’s movies I twisted here?
> 
> [2] This may be a reference to Nymphomaniac or to some other interesting movies that Stellan did in his youth. You decide.
> 
> [3] Konstantin Sergeevich Stanislavskij was a Russian actor, director and teacher, famous because he was the first to theorize a method that would help actors to shape the characters they played in a believable way.
> 
> [4] Before filming, it’s customary for the cast and the director to meet to read the script: this allows the actors to familiarize with each other and with the roles they will play, as well as to understand what the director expects of them.
> 
> [5] I’ve learned this term, "May-December relationship", only recently. It’s used to describe a sentimental relationship of a couple with a relevant age gap.


	3. Scene 1 - Take 3

Valery remained calm most of the time, even if he wasn't used to traveling in a car with a driver.

Ulana Khomyuk had phoned him a few days earlier, letting him know that Shcherbina wanted to meet him as soon as possible, but since it was difficult to reconcile their respective commitments, in the end they agreed to meet in a photo studio in the Ramenki district, where the actor was having a photo shoot session. [1]

Also, contrary to what Valery had speculated,  Khomyuk told him that  Shcherbina wanted to ask him to be on the set during the filming.

The professor was so surprised that he didn’t said anything for several seconds, then started to stutter confusedly.

Feeling that he was very agitated, Ulana had joked: "Professor Legasov, there is no reason to be afraid: my client doesn’t bite. You will have a coffee together and talk a little about your work. The car will arrive at ten."

_ "Easy to say for anyone who isn’t an chronic worrier who is about to meet his movie idol,"  _ thought Valery, but he simply thanked her. He insisted that there was no need to send a car to pick him up, he could go by bus, but the agent said that he was part of the production too, there was no problem.

Anyway, once in sight of the Lenin Hill [2], Valery began to get seriously anxious, wondering if his hair was well combed, if the suit he wore was suitable for the occasion, what to say to the actor, how not to make a bad impression; in general he was terribly worried that his shyness would block him completely.

The doorman of the building vaguely indicated where to go and then went back to reading the newspaper, so Valery reached the photo studio alone, opened the door and found himself catapulted into a world of lights, reflective umbrellas, tripods, backcloths and extremely busy people.

And was that a life-size poster of Valery Leontiev hanging on the wall? [3]

"Excuse me..." the scientist tried to say, when a man with mustache and glasses passed by him.

"Not now, find whatever you need by yourself," replied Stolyarchuk, the photographer, who had mistaken Valery for one of the assistants.

"Actually I..." Valery said, but the photographer was already putting the camera on the tripod.

"Move!" said a jovial voice behind him, and Valery had to flatten himself against the wall to let pass a big guy carrying on his shoulder some photo equipment that looked really heavy.

"Thanks Yuvchenko," said Stolyarchuk, "now turn off the central lamp and leave the others on," then the photographer snapped his fingers to draw the attention of another assistant, "Kirschenbaum, move that umbrella on the left… a little more up… good."

Everyone was in full swing, so Valery stood in the corner so as not to get in the way, but wondered where Boris Shcherbina was. A man was standing in front of the backdrop, but it wasn't him... or was it?

Valery's eyes widened and his mouth opened in amazement.

Usually Shcherbina had an unmistakable appearance, with his thick gray hair and penetrating gaze, while now he sported blonde and washed-out hair that seemed more sparse, and someone had even dyed his eyebrows, making them almost invisible. [4]

So this was what his character would have looked like in the miniseries: a surprising transformation according to Valery, it was really hard to recognize him!

But Shcherbina's charisma was intact. He was perfectly at ease while Stolyarchuk took a ton of photos of him, joked with the photographer and the staff, and patiently submitted himself to the thousand variations proposed: with a perfectly fixed tie, with a coat, without, with an amused smile, with a more sombre face and a loose tie, a pose that Valery found incredibly sexy and that, inevitably, made him think of  _ that  _ movie.

No! He didn't have to think about it now that he was about to meet Shcherbina! In fact, he didn't have to think about it at all, dammit!

But it wasn’t easy, with Shcherbina looking at the camera with a seductive look, bringing his hair back with one hand, and then slowly pulling the coat off his shoulders.

Valery felt his knees giving out and repressed a moan. Agitated, fearing that someone had heard him, he moved, but ended up stumbling in a tangle of cables and knocked down one of the lamps. He catched it, but the loud noise made everyone turn to look at him.

"S-Sorry…"

Shcherbina walked briskly towards Valery to shake his hand.

"Professor Legasov?"

"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm sorry I interrupted you."

“Don't worry, we were done. Right, Boris?"

Stolyarchuk nodded, removed the film from the camera and handed it to one of the assistants to take it to develop.

"I will get the proofs to Comrade Khomyuk, so you will choose the promotional still," the photographer said, and then dismissed the actor. [5]

Shcherbina laid his hand on the professor's elbow to guide him away from the chaos of the photo studio, "Thank you for taking the time to chat with me."

"Oh... no problem... it’s nothing ... I am... um... a great admirer of your work..." Valery wanted to kick himself, because not only had he stammered miserably, but he had also said the most obvious thing possible.

Shcherbina, however, brightened, “Thank you, it's always nice to hear it. Would you like tea or coffee?"

Valery shook his head even though his mouth was dry: he didn't want to create too much trouble. Shcherbina seemed like he wanted to insist, but then realized that it would only make him further uncomfortable, so they walked away.

Legasov was amazed by the actor's affable, almost familiar ways: he had thought that, given his fame, Shcherbina was more detached and aloof, but he was wrong.

They sat in the dressing room, where Boris took off the thin layer of makeup and greasepaint with a tissue, while thanking Valery for the help he was giving to the series.

"I liked the work you did on the script and I'm glad you will continue to assist us."

Valery adjusted the glasses on his nose and fidgeted on the armchair: “Actually I don't know what other contribution I could give. I know absolutely nothing about acting and I can’t give you any suggestion of how to play your character. Not that you need it, Comrade Shcherbina," he added quickly.

"Oh, you’re wrong: your help will be fundamental on the set."

"How?"

"Here’s a little secret: we actors are capricious and we like to improvise, to deviate from the script at the last minute while we’re acting in a scene, and I would like to be sure that neither I nor my colleagues end up saying some nonsense." [6]

"I see. In this case I will help you more than willingly."

“Also, if you don’t know anything about acting, I don’t know anything about science, but since I’ll be a scientist on the screen, I would like to learn more about this subject. When I was a student, my professor told me that I wasn’t gifted at all for the scientific disciplines, so I quickly abandoned them."

Legasov’s blue eyes clouded, hearing those words: "Forgive my frankness, but you had a very bad professor."

"You think so? I don't know, I was really a dunce when it came to maths."

"Even more so, the professor should have helped and followed you more than the other students," Valery gestured animatedly, "A fundamental part of every teacher's work is making the students love and appreciate the subject they teach."

Boris rested his head on his hand and smiled: "And you love science, do you?"

"Very, very much. There is a big misunderstanding in our society: science is seen as something abstruse, complicated and detached from everyday life, therefore most people are uninterested in it. It's a shame, because science is especially passion, curiosity, asking questions, and seeking answers for problems that seem unsolvable."

"It's an interesting point of view."

Valery adjusted his glasses on his nose, “The first thing that struck me about Valdimir Pikalov's script is that he tries to make a complex topic like nuclear physics accessible to everyone. This is why I’m truly honored to participate in this project. In my small way, that's what I try to do when they interview me."

"Science for all… is this what prompted you to become a scientist?"

"One of several reasons."

"And what are the others?"

They talked for a long time, relaxed, as if they were two old friends, and for Valery it was truly incredible.

Shcherbina too was fascinated by the nuclear physicist and by his love for science and for the atom; he had always believed the scientists to be bizarre, almost alien creatures who lived in the closed spaces of their laboratories and spoke a high-sounding and incomprehensible language, but that chat made him understand how wrong he was.

He also understood what cut to give to Ruslan's character: not a fearless hero like some of the roles he had played in the past, but an ordinary man, with his fragility and his idiosyncrasies (perhaps he could "steal" to Valery Alekseevich the way he tormented his hands?) but also a man who faced and overcame those fears, a man who revealed how brilliant and competent he was when it came to what he loved: science.

Boris asked the professor if he could draw inspiration from him or if the idea bothered him.

Legasov lowered his eyes and blushed conspicuously, fidgeting again.

“No, of course it doesn't bother me. In fact, I would be honored, but..."

"What?"

"Are you sure I'm suitable?" He shrugged, and suddenly seemed to get smaller, "I am not... I don't think I am..."

"You are perfect, Valery Alekseevich."

"Comrade Shcherbina..."

"Boris. You can call me Boris, if you want."

"Yes, sure. And you can call me Valery, of course," the professor replied with a big smile.

Someone knocked on the door and informed Shcherbina that the car had come to get him.

“I didn't realize it was so late. Well, I'll see you on the set, Valery. " Boris shook his hand warmly and went out.

Still dazed (and on cloud nine, inside himself) Valery also hurried to leave the photo studio that was closing. Only Yuvchenko remained to store the equipment in the trunks.

"I'm sorry you’re still here because of me," Valery apologized.

"It’s not a problem. It's always like that when Boris Shcherbina is here."

"Oh?"

"Yes, we laugh and chat and obviously we end up late," said Yuvchenko, while folding a tripod, "He’s truly lovable to anyone, even to us assistants. Jokingly, Shcherbina says he has more than ten thousand friends."

"It's not hard to believe," Valery murmured, then left the building, but a strange melancholy had taken hold of him, and remained on him, while the car speeded along the bright avenues of the city and brought him back home.

_ "Did you get the illusion of being somehow special to him? You're just an idiot." _

He rolled the window down and lit a cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The Ramenki district in Moscow is where the Mosfilm studios are actually located.
> 
> [2] Sparrow Hill, called Lenin Hill between 1935 and 1999, is a hill in Moscow, the highest point in the city. It houses a large park with numerous attractions.
> 
> [3] Valery Jakovlevich Leontiev is a Russian singer, whose stardom peaked in the 1980s.
> 
> [4] Easter egg: At the Globes, Stellan joked that people never recognize him because he has no eyebrows. Here I wanted to completely reverse the situation: Boris’ normal look is the one of the HBO series, while the character he plays in Infinite Impact in my head looks like Stellan in his everyday life. No eyebrows, then :D
> 
> [5] In professional photography, the proofs are small prints of all the photos taken during a session, among which the best ones are chosen for a high quality print. Promotional stills, that appear in booklets or magazines, can be taken both in the studio and during filming.
> 
> [6] True. Many actors confessed that some of the most successful scenes in their movies were improvised as they acted, deviating from the script, and then the directors decided to keep them, as they worked.
> 
> And if you want a visual reference for the photo shoot session of this chapter, [here we go.](https://johnlockismyreligion.tumblr.com/post/616266549456666624/alyeen1-elenatria)


	4. Scene 2 - Take 1

"May I ask you something?" Valery said as Ulana drove fast on the highway.

"Of course."

“Why are we going to Voronež? The miniseries is set in Moscow and in the countryside just outside the city."

The woman smiled indulgently: “Filming in Moscow is too expensive and chaotic: as soon as we close a road to prepare the set, small groups of onlookers show up: they try to slip behind the barriers, take pictures and shout when they see the actors, disturbing them. We will take some footage of Moscow from above with a helicopter, but the outdoor scenes will be shot in a district of Voronež, generic enough to seem any Soviet city."

"Outdoors?" Legasov leafed through his copy of the script, now crumpled and full of notes, "Shouldn't the first episode start with a dinner at the politician's house?"

"Another peculiarity of the entertainment world: the scenes aren’t shot consequentially as they appear on the script, but grouped according to the locations, in fact we will film all the external shots first, and then the internal ones. This saves us money, we can take advantage of the light and the good weather of this season, and we won't have to worry about the rain and the cold when we will film in the studios in a couple of months."

The professor scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed: "I suppose my questions seem extremely stupid to you."

“Not at all, those who don’t work in this area cannot know how it is. If Boris were here now, he would talk about it for hours."

"Do you know Comrade Shcherbina well?"

"He's been my client for fifteen years now."

"It's a long time," he blurted, then realized that his sentence might sound like an allusion to Khomyuk's age and hurried to apologize, but the woman laughed.

“Yes, it is. When Boris chose me as his agent I hadn’t yet made a name for myself, I was nobody, but he didn’t blink. A few years later I asked him why he hadn't chosen a more expert agent, and he said he had had positive vibes about me."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he said he felt I would do a good job. It seems strange, but he has this ability, even when he works: a look at his workmates and he understands if the filming will go smooth or it will be a disaster."

"Even in the world of science, every now and then appear personalities with extraordinary intuition, capable of thinking outside the box and achieving excellent results that ordinary people can only dream of: think of Marie Curie or Einstein."

"Go easy, Professor Legasov," Ulana laughed, "I understand you’re a fan of Boris, but don’t flatter him that much, his ego is already quite big!"

Valery was on the verge of vehemently denying that he was a fan, a term he considered appropriate for a person much younger than him, but then realized that it was useless: as he feared, he was truly transparent and his words betrayed his feelings.

He mumbled something unintelligible and turned to the window to watch the countryside, tormenting his hands.

Ulana glanced at him sideways and said nothing, but she thought she had already understood the professor.

_ "It will be interesting," _ she thought.

They reached the hotel that housed the crew who worked on the miniseries when it was dark.

Legasov didn’t see Shcherbina that evening, as the actor was busy with his colleagues, but he was amazed by the number of people who made up the crew: toolmakers, prop masters, workmen, sound and light technicians, hairdressers, make up artists, set decorators, attendants and assistants of all kinds.

The cinema was a wonderful machine, but a huge one.

Valery saw Boris the next morning at breakfast.

"There will be a lot of chaos on the set," the actor warned.

"More than at the photo studio?"

Boris hid a smile behind the napkin: "That was nothing."

Valery made a very worried face, and Boris called a boy of the crew, tall and lanky, with blond hair and mustache, and a gentle look.

“Lenya, this is Professor Legasov, our scientific consultant. Can I entrust him to you during the shootings?"

"Of course," the boy answered, holding out his hand to the professor.

"Thank you very much," Valery replied, shaking it.

“Leonid Toptunov is an all-round assistant on the set. Without him we would be lost."

"Comrade Shcherbina always likes to joke," Leonid shielded himself, "Ah, we're almost ready: we're leaving for the location in ten minutes."

"What did I tell you? Without Lenya nothing would work here."

Valery understood that, beyond the joking tone, Boris seriously appreciated the young assistant's commitment, and the latter was clearly proud of it.

Now it was a little easier for him to understand why Shcherbina had so many friends, and he should simply consider himself lucky if he was one of them.

Boris was right, however: the small photo studio was nothing compared to the outdoor set: it was like to look at an anthill, teeming with frenetic activity.

Having entrusted the professor to the assistant, Boris had gone to the make-up trailer, and Legasov looked anxiously at Toptunov: "I will end up tripping over something and causing a disaster."

The boy shook his head and laughed: "It's just a matter of habit, Professor, but if you’re looking for a quiet corner, I suggest you the tent behind the director’s station, where there are the monitors that the actors watch after shooting a scene."

Viktor Bryukhanov was a brisk man who smoked one cigarette after another, and as soon as he set foot on the set, everyone stopped and fell silent, waiting for his directions.

The director gave a short encouraging speech, everyone reached their position, the stagehand clapped the clapperboard, and the magic began. [1]

The moment the camera turned to him, Boris transformed.

It was an almost imperceptible change in his posture and facial expression, but suddenly Shcherbina was no longer there, and Ruslan was in his place.

In that scene, Dyatlov's character yelled and threatened him openly; after a moment of hesitation and having overcome his fear, Ruslan reacted, grabbing him by the elbow, while standing his ground.

For Valery it was like watching a prestidigitation: being a longtime fan of Boris he knew how good the actor was, but he had never seen that hidden moment, the one when the actor became the character, and he shivered.

At the end of the scene, Shcherbina and Dyatlov exchanged a knowing look and smiled: it had gone well, just like the first reading of the script. 

It could seem nonsense, because they had several months of filming ahead, they would have shot many scenes that would have been discarded in the final edit, yet the first one was important.

Maybe it was just acting superstition, but it was a good sign.

The scene was repeated five more times, changing the shot angle and adding a little wind in the last one for a more dramatic effect. [2]

For the next scene they had to mount the track for the camera, so there was a break of almost half an hour, then the clouds darkened the sun during the third scene; they waited for a while and finally resolved to use reflective panels and lights.

Whenever the camera stopped shooting, Marina Gruzinskaya and her staff zealously rushed around the actors, combing their hair, correcting small imperfections in the make-up and smoothing the clothes.

In addition, at the end of each scene, the cast gathered around the monitors to comment on what had been shot, already discarding some unusable shots, and talking about how the scene could be improved.

Valery was also called to give his opinion, when a dialogue between scientists was changed at the last minute, but for the majority of the time he remained seated on some wooden crates, trying not to hinder anyone.

That evening, at dinner, Boris was curious to know Valery’s sensations about the day spent on the set.

They sat at the same table without either of them deciding it out loud. Simply, Valery had sat there and Boris had followed him.

The academician tried not to read too much into it.

"So what do you think?" Boris asked, after ordering a light dinner.

“I’m impressed. I participated in some tv show about science, filmed in a television studio, but it was completely different. I had no idea that there was so much work behind a movie or a TV series, and I didn't think that..." he stopped, realizing that he was about to say something potentially offensive and inappropriate, as usual, but Boris smiled and poured himself a second glass of wine (Valery had barely touched his first).

"Continue."

"Here, if I may... I didn't think there was so much to wait between the shots. Don't... don't you get bored?"

Boris slammed a hand on the table and burst out laughing, “Yes, we’re bored to death! Once the tension of the first few days has passed, you will see many of the crew making crossword puzzles, playing chess or cards, reading a book, or calling home. You should find something to do too." [3]

Valery nodded: he could actually take advantage of downtime to correct his students' essays, or read some scientific journal.

"It's a very good advice, thank you."

"Do you know that some of us sleep during the night breaks?"

"They sleep?" To Valery it seemed impossible, given the chaos and the noise that reigned on the set.

"When you end up shooting at two or three in the morning, you’re so tired that you would sleep standing up, trust me."

Since Boris was the protagonist of the miniseries, Valery spent a lot of time with him, but there were other actors playing scientists, and a few days later Valery went with Fomin, the second unit director, for a scene that featured the female main character played by Svetlana Zinchenko. [4]

Suddenly the assistant director decided to overturn the script and change the actors' lines.

Sitting in his usual corner, Valery frowned: it wasn't right. He pondered whether to shut up now and talk to Boris or Leonid later (neither of them was there at the moment), but if the scene had to be shot another day, the crew would have wasted time.

It was better to speak up right away: after all, they asked him to be the consultant for the series, he was part of that project and it was his job to point out the inconsistencies.

"Excuse me," he said during a pause, "the scene is wrong now."

Fomin rose from his chair and stood in front of Legasov with his hands on his hips. Everyone stopped and turned to look at them.

"Tell me, do you have any knowledge of directing a movie?" he asked with a snotty attitude.

Valery shook his head and Fomin walked away, considering the incident closed, but the scientist took a step forward.

“However, I have a degree in nuclear physics and I can tell you that, shot like this, the scene is wrong from a scientific point of view. Also, no scientist in the world would say those lines," he replied, alluding to the modified dialogue.

Fomin turned again, irritated by Valery's insistence, but Legasov stood his ground.

"I'm just doing what I got paid for."

"What if we keep both scenes, and then we make Viktor decide?" Zinchenko suggested.

The second unit director huffed, but eventually agreed with a shrug.

Valery feared he had gone too far, but Zinchenko smiled at him and, as she passed by, whispered: "I agree with your view, Comrade Legasov."

Boris found his co-protagonist smoking a cigarette in the hotel courtyard, and joined her.

"I was told that there was some tense moments on your set today."

The girl shrugged and sucked in some smoke: "Fomin has delusions of grandeur, but his ideas are terrible: the scene he wanted to shoot was rough and botched, and Professor Legasov just talked some sense into him."

"Well, he was right: it’s useless to have a scientific consultant if we don't listen to what he says."

Zinchenko narrowed her eyes: "Now I understand why you molded Ruslan on him."

Boris nodded and leaned against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets.

“He is a very interesting man, isn't he? Apparently he’s shy and quiet, but put the man in his element and he transforms completely. Not only he is competent, he also becomes self-confident, and at that point he forgets his fears and idiosyncrasies. He's a hero in his own way, and that's how I want to play my character on the screen."

Zinchenko carefully put out her cigarette in an ashtray and smiled: "You find him much more than interesting."

"What do you mean, Sveta?" Boris chuckled.

The girl made a fake innocent face and shook her short dark hair: “Me? Absolutely nothing!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The clapperboard, in a cinematographic or television shot, not only has the task of identifying the number of the scene and the take, but the clapping sound also serves to synchronize the audio with the video during the editing.
> 
> [2] True. The scene you watch on the screen is the result of a selection of various - often dozen - different shots and angles. Nothing is overlooked or left to chance.
> 
> [3] Well, yes: reading many interviews, it emerges that the exciting life of an actor is rather boring during filming. It takes a long time to prepare a scene that lasts a few minutes, and the pauses to disassemble, reassemble, or move the equipment are very long.
> 
> [4] The assistant director, or second unit director, has the task of shooting scenes far from the main set, scenes that often involve supporting actors or extras. It’s a way to keep time and costs down, because it allows the production to shoot multiple scenes simultaneously.


	5. Scene 2 - Take 2

Since there were many downtimes, Valery took the habit to walk aimlessly between the trailers, and one day he happened to be in front of the one of Marina Gruzinskaya, who was sitting on the metal steps smoking a cigarette.

The woman muttered something to herself, then got up and walked to Valery in a few steps.

The professor winced: that woman was very tall indeed.

"Please Professor, don't be offended, but there is a thing I want to tell you since I saw you."

"Sure, I don’t mind...," Valery said, however a little intimidated.

The woman waved her arms in the air: "Your hair! This old, neglected haircut ages you so much!"

Valery blushed: it was true, he didn't care much about his appearance, he shaved every morning out of habit, but he tended to forget to cut his hair, until some colleague looked at him sideways saying that he looked like _ "one of those American hippies." _

And he certainly didn't care to be fashionable.

"My barber cuts it like this..." he justified himself.

"A man without finesse," Marina regretted, then pointed to her make-up trailer, "Do you mind?"

"But I'm not an actor."

"And we’re not shooting any scenes right now, so neither I nor my assistants have anything to do."

Valery ran a hand through his hair: it was actually long and messy.

"Alright."

"Perfect, you won't regret it."

What the woman and her team had in mind wasn’t a simple haircut, she also wanted to revamp the colour with a henna dye.

"There is always time for gray, honey," she said, to stop Valery’s protests.

He thought it was ridiculous to dye his hair at his age, but in the end he agreed; anyway he drew the line at the retouching of the eyebrows. That was a little too much for him.

A couple of hours later, when he looked in the mirror, he admitted he was impressed: the long and gray sideburns were gone, the colour of his hair was more lively without being loud, the shape of the hair on the nape was perfect, and now even those on the forehead didn’t fell forward annoyingly.

“It’s…”

Marina Gruzinskaya playfully placed her hands on his shoulders: "Valery Legasov, now you’re ready to be a heartbreaker."

Boris was reading a book, waiting for filming again, when Valery returned to the set. He immediately noticed the new haircut of the Professor and lifted his head abruptly, smiling: Valery had ended up in the hands of their whimsical make-up artist.

Well, Marina had done an excellent job with him: before Valery went easily unnoticed, with his mild attitude, while now he stood out in a crown.

Boris wanted to tell him that he liked the new haircut, but then the director said they were ready to shoot.

Right, time to concentrate on the job.

A heavy thunderstorm blocked temporarily the filming, forcing the crew to take refuge in trucks and trailers, after having put the equipment away.

"I don't think we're going to shoot again today," Boris said, while he repaired Valery with his umbrella and the two walked towards the actor's trailer that, during the external shooting, became for him a sort of second home, where he read the script and relaxed between one scene and the other.

Valery looked up to the sky: "It's just a storm, maybe in a couple of hours it will stop raining?"

Boris gave him an indulgent smile: “Yes, but there are puddles everywhere, while in the previous scene the ground is dry. We can't shoot now: in the final editing this inconsistency would be noticed."

"Right," Valery looked down, embarrassed, "Sorry, I keep asking stupid questions."

"There are no stupid questions!" Boris protested, "You're just curious, and isn't that what scientists are?"

Valery didn't answer, but smiled.

Once in the trailer, he looked around in amazement.

“It looks like it's the first time you've seen one. Something wrong?" Boris asked.

"It’s neat... immaculate, I would say. I can't keep my car tidy, I would turn this place into a dunghill in a matter of hours."

"I hope you don't mind if I don't bring this peculiarity of yours to the screen," Boris muttered, but he looked amused.

"Oh no, you're right: I know I'm terrible."

"But you can't change."

Valery shook his head: “I fear that all my energies are dedicated to science, and everything else that surrounds me becomes a negligible element. Three housekeepers quit before I find one who can deal with the mess in my house."

Legasov was so candid in admitting his flaws that Boris couldn't help but chuckle again.

The storm didn't stop, so Boris sat down at the table to answer to the letters of some fans, while Valery sat on the sofa, placing papers on his knees: he had followed Boris' advice on how to fill the time during the long breaks, and he had his students' essays sent to him from the university.

But when Boris saw him hunched over in a decidedly uncomfortable position, he invited him to take a chair and sit in front of him at the table.

For a while they devoted themselves to their tasks, but Boris found himself increasingly distracted by Valery; he put the pen down and looked at him.

Above all Boris was fascinated by the thousand genuine emotions that danced on his face: Valery smiled proudly when he read a particularly brilliant sentence, happy that his student understood such a complex subject, widened his eyes in front of a too bold theory, lowered his shoulders, downhearted, when he spotted a huge mistake.

For Boris, accustomed by his job of faking emotions on command, that river of spontaneity was something incredibly fascinating.

But it wasn’t only that. Legasov was a handsome man, despite his acne-scarred cheeks, with his reddish and fine hair, and the freckles that still stood out on the skin despite having passed fifty. The new haircut really suited him, and when he took off his glasses to bring his eyes closer to a paper, he looked younger, almost boyish. He had beautiful eyes, of an intense blue color, framed by long, red eyelashes.

If he had been an actor, photographers and directors would have been crazy about his gaze.

Boris wondered if anyone had ever paid him a compliment about his eyes, or more generally about his person, but he feared that the answer was no, given how uncomfortable Valery seemed to be in his own body.

He felt his heart tighten a little, at the thought that no one had ever appreciated Valery.

_ "Why are you so shy? You have no reason to be," _ he found himself thinking. He also realized that he wanted to know much more about him.

He cared.

After that time it became a tacit habit for them to be in Boris' trailer during the breaks, if Valery wasn't busy offering his advice for the second unit.

Initially Valery never opened his mouth, fearing he would annoy the actor; he let Boris start the conversations, but as the days went by, he learned to understand from his eyes if he wanted to read the script, or if he was in the mood to chat, then they sat on the sofa with their feet stretched out on the table, talking about their lives.

Surely Shcherbina just wanted to be kind, when he asked Valery to talk about himself and his academic career, or maybe he did it to better study the character he played. 

What other reason could a man with an interesting life like him have, in taking interest in a dull Professor?

During one of these breaks, Boris and Valery heard some turmoil outside the trailer.

The actor opened the door and saw that the security guard had blocked a man who was carrying a large camera around his neck.

"What’s happening?" Boris asked.

"I surprised this man wandering on the set, and he hasn’t a pass, he can't stay here," replied the guard, who held the man firmly by the arm.

"I work for the Sovetsky Ekran magazine [1], I just wanted to exchange a few words with Comrade Shcherbina."

"For that, you must go through my agent: if you work for a magazine, you should know."

"I did, but your agent denied me the interview!"

Boris didn't mind giving interviews, he gladly participated in festivals and meetings with an audience to talk about movies and acting, but the questions about his private life bothered him, because they violated his personal space and had nothing to do with his work, therefore he had said Ulana to deny permission to anyone interested only in sordid gossip.

"There is a very specific reason for that, as Comrade Khomyuk has certainly explained to you," Boris replied calmly and nodded to the guard to lead the man out of the set, but he firmly planted his feet on the ground, like a donkey.

"Oh come on, I just want a comment about your ex-wife! You know for sure that that, in days, she is getting married again, and with a man ten years younger than you. How does this make you feel? Do you feel humiliated or emasculated?"

Boris rubbed his eyes for a moment and sighed: "This is absolutely ridiculous and I have no comment to make."

The harassing journalist was led away, but the hustle and bustle alerted Ulana, who was on the set that day.

When the agent entered the trailer, Valery moved to the door.

"Where are you going?" Boris asked.

"Well, I don't want to bother you, surely you want to be alone to discuss..."

"There is nothing to discuss: stay."

Valery stopped, nodding imperceptibly, but he felt strangely agitated: the rude insinuation of that reporter had made him cringe, and he had nothing to do with it. How could Boris be so calm?

"Professor Legasov isn’t entirely wrong," Ulana said, "I know what your stance on gossip is, but since you said nothing, that journalist will feel free to invent his own version of the facts, even your non-existent statement."

"But he can't do it, it would be a lie!" Valery stated, frowning.

The agent poured herself a glass of vodka: "This is how it works, Professor Legasov: when something is written in a magazine, especially in a specialized magazine, even a lie becomes a version of the truth."

"It’s crazy," the scientist insisted, "a lie is a lie, whether written or told. And if that reporter really writes something fake, me and the security guard can refute it."

"But by then the article will be in the magazine, people will read that," Ulana gave him a pitying glance, "and a subsequent denial always has little effect compared to the clamor of the initial news," she put the glass in the small sink and took her briefcase, "I'm going to call the legal firm to see if we can do anything."

Boris shrugged: "Whatever: after all even Charkov's men must earn their wages."

Ulana gave him a reproachful look: "Borenka, you too know that Ekaterina will be furious, if an article that somehow concerns her come out, she has always hated gossip."

Boris sighed heavily: "Yes, I know. Do what you think is right."

When the agent left, he also poured himself a drink.

"Ekaterina?" Valery ventured.

“My second wife. Well, ex-wife."

As much as he was a big fan of Boris, Valery had never read much about his romantic relationships, due to a sort of strange reluctance to invade his private life: looking at photos taken in secret and reading gossip was no different from looking through a keyhole, like a peeping tom.

But now something, perhaps the degree of confidence they shared, prompted Valery to ask a few questions: Boris had brought on the table the bottle of vodka and two glasses, usually a sign that he wanted to talk.

"Was it a difficult divorce?" he asked politely, taking the glass that Boris handed him.

Boris leaned his head back and closed his eyes: "Yes. She had expectations and a very specific idea of how our marriage should have been; unfortunately her ideas clashed with the reality of the facts and we fell apart. In the end, I can't blame her: being married to an actor isn't easy.”

"I don't know you well, but it doesn't seem difficult to live with you," Valery murmured, stubbornly looking at his glass, "You are very nice and sociable."

"Well, thank you, but I assure you that I have my flaws."

Valery gave an incredulous look and Boris chuckled, “Wait until you see my tantrums, and you will change your mind. Anyway, regardless of my personality, this job forces me to stay away from home for several months a year, because of filming, and you have just witness how intrusive the paparazzi are, chasing us wherever we go, ready to create a scandal from nothing."

"You bear a lot of pressure."

“Yes, and this ends up poisoning a couple's life. Ekaterina couldn’t stand my being always far from home, nor the gossip, because it insinuated doubts into her about us. In the end she had become jealous even of Ulana, convinced that we had an affair, because of a stupid magazine article."

“Is that why you actors often marry each other? Because you understand this situation better?"

"You make it sound like we belong to an elite," Boris joked.

Valery shrugged: in fact actors, singers, and dancers seemed to belong to another world.

Boris laughed again, with a playful glint in his eyes: “Social classes in the Soviet Union? This is not possible, comrade."

Valery laughed too.

"To answer your question, sometimes marrying someone who does your same job makes things a little easier, but sometimes it ends up being worse. It went badly for me in both cases: my first wife was a Bolshoi ballet dancer and, between a film of mine and a tour of her, it happened that we didn't see each other for almost one year: it was like not being married at all."

"It's a long time... yes, I guess it's tough."

"I love being an actor, but there is a price to pay."

Valery poured some more vodka to both of them: “Yours is not much different from the life of a scientist, you know? Laboratory experiments, lessons, publications... they’re all things that require time and effort, if you aim to do something important, and your private life is the first to suffer."

"Has this happened to you too?"

"I never got married," Valery confessed, "but there was a girl who liked me a lot, her name was Julia. Like your Ekaterina, she had very clear expectations about the two of us, but I didn't noticed."

"Weren't you interested in her?"

“Not in the same way: Julia was a wonderful girl, other men would have crawled through glass to be with her, but I was much more focused on my studies. At the time, I worked for my professor at the university, I did everything to get noticed by him and stand out on the other assistants, even neglecting Julia. I was kind to her because she was so sweet, but I wasn't in love and didn't share her vision of family and life together. When she realized it... she was heartbroken. I didn't want to hurt her, but in the end I ended up doing exactly that, so I decided it was better for me, but especially for those around me, if I put aside romantic relationships."

Valery would only understand later that there was another factor, a part of him that led him not to fall in love with women, and that pushed him not to have relationships, but he couldn't tell Boris (or anyone else).

As far as he knew, Boris had never made homophobic statements, but homosexuality was one of the great taboos of that country, very few tolerated it. Not to mention that revealing point-blank that he was gay would have created unnecessary embarrassment and destroyed that fragile and fleeting relationship that was born between them, there on the set.

"I understand your point of view," Boris said in the meantime, "but don't you ever feel alone?"

Valery blinked slowly: “I never thought about it seriously, but I think I don’t. Maybe my work has kept me so busy that I've never had time to feel alone," he tried to joke with a small smile, but Boris was very serious as he said, "Or maybe there never was someone so important in your life that you missed them."

"It may be," Valery conceded, "as I said, I prefer not to have relationships in order not to hurt anyone. Less... less problems, you know," he concluded, refusing to look at Boris in the eye.

_ "For someone like me, the relationship I want would be too problematic, dangerous even." _

Leonid knocked on the door, asking for Boris: they had to change the shooting schedule and needed his opinion.

Boris apologized to Valery and went out, but he was sorry that they had been interrupted: he seemed like he was on the verge of understanding something important, probably fundamental, about him.

And once again his mind registered how much he cared about Valery Legasov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It’s the name of a real Soviet magazine about cinema, television, actors, and entertainment world in general, published from 1925 to 1998.  
> However I deviate from the reality of the facts in my fanfiction, as Sovetsky Ekran certainly didn’t publish gossip articles, as it happens in this universe instead.  
> From my research I haven’t found that under the Soviet regime there were any gossip magazines, similar to the Brit or U.S. tabloids.   
> In my story, however, it is like that, since gossip has a certain relevance for the plot.


	6. Scene 2 - Take 3

There was a good harmony between the crew and the cast on the set, but Boris knew from experience that it was impossible for everything to go smoothly until the end: misunderstandings, hitches, delays, small accidents with the equipment, scenes shot over and over, they all ended up exacerbating people, so it happened that some quarrels broke out, especially when Fomin, the second unit director, was involved.

When it came to creativity, he wasn’t up to Bryukhanov, but had a high (too high) opinion of himself; in the last period he frequently clashed with the camera operator Bacho and a young assistant operator, Pavel.

The older cameraman had taken Pavel under his protective wing, and was teaching the job to him. 

The boy wasn’t bad behind the camera, he had a nice sensitivity, but was young and inexperienced, and once, nervous and frightened by the abrupt and contemptuous attitude of the assistant director, who had targeted him, had forgotten to insert the film in the camera, so they would have to repeat three scenes.

Needless to say, Fomin exploded, shouting abuses against Pavel; Bacho defended him, saying that the boy had to learn, but it was difficult with Fomin who tormented him for every nonsense.

Boris agreed with Bacho, but the cameraman's aggressive ways didn't help his cause.

"This isn't a school," Fomin snapped, "if the boy can’t do his job, he should go and find another one!"

"Come on, Comrade Fomin," Boris intervened before it was too late, placing a hand on the assistant director's shoulder, "this is not worthy of the Soviet spirit: if we don’t pass our knowledge on to the new generations, how will society progress? The boy made a mistake, but is eager to learn and improve, and aren't these the qualities we are looking for in the people who work in our field?"

Boris' affable ways calmed the atmosphere, then the actor approached Pavel, murmuring a few words of encouragement to him too, the accident was forgotten and the scenes were shot again.

"Good grief," Valery whispered to Leonid, who was pouring hot tea for everyone, "at some point I thought Fomin and Bacho would get violent, thank goodness that Boris intervened."

Leonid nodded: “It’s one of Comrade Shcherbina's talents: he always knows what to say to defuse a tense situation. Sometimes I think that if he hadn't become an actor, he would have been a great politician."

Valery laughed: the idea of Boris working in the Kremlin seemed funny to him.

"He was very nice to Pavel too," he added. Valery approved of Boris’ attitude, of course: he too reassured his students when they made mistakes, so they would do better in the future.

“He tries to bring the younger generations closer to the world of cinema, because there are many job opportunities here. A decade ago he opened a film school in Kiev, and although he doesn't have time to teach there in person, he does offer scholarships and occasionally meets the students to encourage them."

"I had no idea."

Valery turned to look at Boris and, if possible, his admiration for him grew even more.

Valery witnessed how much Boris had a positive influence on the cast several other times.

One day Svetlana Zinchenko was unable to concentrate during a crucial scene: she forgot her lines, stumbled over the words, became increasingly nervous, but in the end it was Boris who asked the director for a half-hour break, and went away with her.

"Sorry, I'm a mess today," the woman began, lighting a cigarette.

"We all have the right to have one bad day, it's written on the contract, didn't you know?"

The joke made her smile.

"Something worries you?"

The girl ran a hand through her curly hair: “I had a fight with my boyfriend. I know I shouldn't bring my personal problems to the set, but..."

"Sveta, we're not on set now," Boris replied, as if to say she could let off steam with him.

People thought that the actors, making good money and living in a certain ease, had no problems. Someone even thought that they had no right to have problems, but the truth was that they were people like everyone else, with their anxieties and fears, and sometimes they needed a friendly ear to listen to them.

"He's usually a very understanding guy, but lately..."

Boris and Svetlana walked to the edge of the set, and he listened silently to her outburst; he didn’t even give her advice (heck, with two divorces behind him, he was the least suitable person to do it), but he offered her his sympathy, and this was enough to reassure her.

When they returned to the set, Svetlana was again the usual self, and the filming continued without problems.

_ "He's a wonderful man," _ Valery thought as he looked at Boris. Perhaps this was one of the reasons he admired him so much (beyond his celebrity crush): even before he met him, he had unknowingly perceived this side of Boris, watching his films.

_ "Oh fuck," _ he scolded himself rubbing his eyes,  _ "you start talking like a script!" _

However, in the next scene, Boris and Svetlana had to kiss for the first time, and the director seemed determined to shoot the scene from every possible angle.

Distraught, Valery silently slipped away from the set: he couldn't watch it, even if it was only fiction, and he couldn't handle the load of emotions that invested him: anger, frustration, envy and a bitter jealousy.

He couldn’t deny it anymore: he wanted to be in Zinchenko’s place, kissing Boris senseless.

He hated and cursed himself for that: whoever Boris kissed, on set or off, was none of his business and would have never been.

The only one to notice his departure was Zinchenko, who shot him a look full of interest.

That evening Svetlana found Valery in the inner courtyard of the hotel, enjoying a cigarette.

"Can I?" asked the actress, nodding to the packet.

"Sure." Valery pushed the packet and lighter towards her and Svetlana served herself, then sat on a table in front of Valery, swinging her slender legs.

They made some small talks, then Zinchenko asked: "So, did you get used to our madness?"

"Yes, I did," Valery laughed, "Seriously, it's a privilege to be able to watch the filming."

"And what do you think about the character that Comrade Shcherbina created?"

“It’s perfect, and Boris is extraordinary. You all are, of course,” he added quickly.

"Of course," Zinchenko echoed with an amused voice.

"I'm serious, I like everything, and I'm sure the miniseries will be a success."

"Do you like absolutely everything? Even the love story?"

Valery stopped, surprised, then sucked in the smoke and shrugged.

"Come on, if you don't like it you can tell me: it will be our secret," the actress laughed, winking.

Valery made a funny face: "It's just that it's unrealistic."

"You mean you don't have loads of female students at your feet?"

"Oh no, that would be terribly inappropriate!" Valery replied, but understood that Zinchenko was joking, so his tone remained light too.

"Anyway, I confess I find the love story a little cliché, too," the actress said conspiratorially, "A man and a woman in the same shot on the screen? Obviously they must have a relationship!" she exclaimed with such emphasis that made the professor laugh, "But you know, the average viewer likes this trope, so he can imagine himself being Ruslan and having a story with my character."

"I'm afraid I don't fit into the definition of average."

"No, I would say that you are as far from the definition of average as possible, Professor Legasov," agreed the actress, putting out her cigarette, and in front of Valery's puzzled look, she explained, "We were alone for half an hour and you didn't try to impress me."

Valery blinked slowly, "Should I have?"

"You could have, and many men would have tried."

The scientist swallowed nervously: that woman was very smart and seemed to have understood him. She was nice and friendly, but Valery wanted to get out of that conversation, too uncomfortable for him at this point, so he hid behind a "You’re engaged, it would be untimely."

"This wouldn't stop many men."

"Terrible men," said Valery, and he really thought that.

Zinchenko smiled, then jumped off the table: “I agree. Thanks for the cigarette and the conversation. "

"Oh... you’re welcome."

"And also thank you for not being a terrible man."

"You can always count on me for that."

"Ah, that's where you two were gone!" Boris' powerful voice echoed in the courtyard and the actor joined them in a few steps, "Were you conspiring, comrades?" he joked.

"Of course, but now we're done, I'll leave your professor to you, Boris!" Zinchenko exclaimed, but as she passed past Valery she smiled and whispered softly, so that only Valery could hear her: "Maybe there is someone else you want to impress."

Valery was still smoking and the smoke went sideways, making him cough and tear.

"Hey, are you alright?" Boris asked, patting his hand thoughtfully on his back.

"Yes, thank you. Do you need something?" Valery asked, anxious to divert the discussion, seeing that Boris was holding the script.

"Yes, there is this scene where Ruslan talks about his past and the project that made him a member of the Academy of Sciences. Would you explain to me how it works, if you aren’t too tired?"

"Of course. It's very interesting, actually."

Boris put an arm around his shoulders and led him to the hotel bar.

Sitting in front of a cup of tea, while the actor listened carefully, Valery found himself thinking that Zinchenko had guessed right: he wanted to impress Boris, he wanted to be noticed, to be special, not to be just one of the ten thousand friends of the actor.

Fuck, he was in trouble.

One evening, at the end of the dinner, Boris immediately retired to his room.

Valery could only imagine how tired he was: in the miniseries there were many action scenes where he had to run from one side to the other, or climb over fences; despite his age and bulk, Boris was still surprisingly agile, but that afternoon he suffered from a pulled muscle in his shoulder.

Nothing to worry about, according to the doctor who followed the crew, but he had to be careful for a couple of days, make ice packs, and limit efforts. The shooting schedule was slightly modified and there were no other consequences.

Valery also got up to go to his room: usually he was happy to stop and chat with Boris after dinner, but he didn’t have the same degree of confidence with the other cast members, and Fomin was still slightly hostile to him.

He was waiting for the elevator when he was approached by Zinchenko.

"Can I ask you a favor, Valery?"

"Of course."

The girl handed him a plastic jar.

“Could you bring this ointment to Boris? Once I got hurt on the set of a movie, slipping on a metal ladder, and this worked a miracle."

"Yes, but…"

"I would do it, but I have an important phone call waiting for me," said the actress, batting her eyelashes.

"Oh... then I'll go right away."

Valery took the jar and went up in the elevator, while Zinchenko smiled and went back into the restaurant hall, humming: no, she had no urgent phone call.

Valery knocked on Boris' door and heard his "come in", though very muffled.

He had never been into Boris’ room, and smiled, when he saw that it was as clean and tidy as his trailer. It also smelled good, the same as his cologne, and Valery allowed himself to inhale it thoroughly, closing his eyes, then he cleared his throat.

"Boris, it's me, Zinchenko gave me an ointment to..."

Boris came out of the bathroom shirtless, pressing an ice pack over his shoulder.

His chest was hairless, since he had shaved for the movie, and looked incredibly smooth and soft.

"Hm?" Boris said, waiting for Valery to complete the sentence, but the scientist didn't think he was able to do it, he didn't think he was able to do anything but watch Boris Shcherbina for the rest of his days.

Finally he stammered, "I- the pulled muscle… here..." and stretched out his arm, holding out the jar.

"Oh thanks. Ice helped, but that's better." Boris put the ice on a small table and took the jar.

Valery knew that he had to take advantage of that moment to say goodbye and run back to his room and spend the night fighting the fantasies that already appeared in his mind, but his feet refused to move.

Boris unscrewed the lid and looked at Valery with a small apologetic smile: “The pain is not really on the shoulder, it’s more on the shoulder blade, and I can’t reach there: could you do it? If it's not a problem..." he added, seeing that Valery had widened his eyes.

"No, no, at all..." Valery replied, rushing behind Boris: this way, the actor wouldn't see that he was blushing furiously. But if the sight of Boris' bare chest had bewitched him, that of his back was devastating: broad shoulders, still toned muscles, the perfect line of the spine that ran down to...

Valery squinted and cursed himself: who knows, maybe if he threw himself out the window he could stop that train of indecent thoughts.

But it was impossible, really impossible not to think of his hands on Boris' body, everywhere on Boris' body, touching and squeezing and...

_ "Stop that! You have to stop!" _

But also Boris was reacting unexpectedly: he just wanted a little help, but when Valery's fingers landed on his shoulder, the air charged with a strange electricity and the moment became incredibly intimate, with the fingers of the scientist slow and gentle on his skin, and his breath that caressed his neck.

He recognized that spark, had perceived it many other times, when he understood that he would get along well with his colleagues on the set, when he understood that a film would be a success.

Chemistry.

There was an incredible chemistry between him and Valery.

He realized that it had always been there, from the moment they shook their hands in the photo studio.

And now it was all too easy to imagine Valery under him on the bed, clinging to his shoulders not to massage them, but to scratch them in ecstasy, while he...

He barely held back a whimper behind his clenched lips.

_ "What the fuck am I thinking?" _

Finally Valery abruptly turned away from him, wishing him goodnight, and left his room even before Boris had time to thank him.

The actor ran a hand under his nose and on his chin, finding them wet with sweat.

"Fuck..." he murmured slowly.

The following days they both strove to act as if nothing had happened, but before they had a chance to analyze what was going on between them, the outdoor shooting in Voronež came to an end, and the crew hurriedly dismantled the equipment to return to Moscow, where, in the Mosfilm's studios, all the other scenes would have been shot.

While he was packing his suitcase in the hotel room, the time spent between the set and the trailer of Boris slowly took on the contours of unreality to Valery, until it resembled a dream.

In the following weeks he would have continued to go to the set to give his advice, but it would have been very different: he would have been at his home, not in a hotel where he could meet Boris in the corridors, or eat at his own table for breakfast and dinner, they wouldn’t have spent anymore hours chatting quietly during a break due to a thunderstorm, with Boris looking at him and smiling.

They would never be so close.

And when they finished shooting in the studio, they would never see each other again: they belonged to two completely different worlds, there was no reason to keep in touch.

Boris would go on to make a new movie, and he would return to the University and his laboratory.

He felt an unspeakable sadness fall on him, and bit his lips almost to the point of making them bleed, while he angrily threw some sweaters inside the suitcase.

_ "This will teach you to fantasize about... things that can't happen, you fool." _


	7. Scene 3 - Take 1

Charkov examined the list of people who would have had a pass to access to the Mosfilm studios, and shook his head in disapproval: "It's too long, can't you cut some names?"

“Too long based on what? Of your profound film set experience?” Garo snapped. The bitterness between him and the lawyer hadn’t diminished, but Charkov was calm as usual.

"Based on the fact that the more people are involved, the less controllable they are."

The producer's assistant laughed incredulously, "Where the fuck are we, at the KGB?"

Sitnikov gave him a good-natured reproaching look, pleading him to calm down.

"Mosfilm has invested a lot of money in the advertising launch of this miniseries, there will be some conventions where the trailer and other clips will be shown to a paying audience. If some photos or film clips were to leak before then, the film studio would suffer a economic damage, and my legal firm is here to prevent this from happening,” Charkov explained in his usual indolent voice.

Bryukhanov put out his cigarette and immediately lit another one, “I understand the point of view of the bakers, but we need all these people: if a scenography breaks or there is a fault with the electrical system, do you expect me to fix it with a screwdriver and a hammer?"

“Are all the consultants also indispensable? For example, does Professor Legasov have to be present when you shoot the scenes? Couldn't he be shown the footage once a week or less?"

Sitnikov, who until then had been the calmest and most accommodating person in the room, straightened himself on the armchair and shook his head, "You want to force that poor man, to whom we pay a ridiculously low fee, to stay closed in a room watching hours and hours of footage? And what if he says that some scenes are wrong and we have to shoot them again? We should assemble the scenography again, call back the actors... no, it would be a waste of time."

"Besides, Shcherbina wants him on set," Ulana added, "you know how much he insisted on this."

"Indeed. I would say there is nothing else to discuss: Professor Legasov will have the pass," Sitnikov concluded.

The meeting ended, but while Ulana gathered her papers in the briefcase, Charkov approached her.

"Have there been other unpleasant incidents such as that of the paparazzo who walked on the set?"

"No, the surveillance has been strengthened since that time."

"Too bad we weren't able to block the publication of that article."

"There was nothing we could do about it."

Sovetsky Ekran article on Shcherbina and his ex-wife was quite unpleasant in its insinuations. In the Soviet Union, gossip industry wasn’t as big as in Western Europe or in the United States, but it still existed: it seemed impossible to curb the curiosity of ordinary people about the private life of actors and singers, and in the end gossip was an inevitable tax to pay, for anyone who was part of the entertainment world. Boris had lived with it for most of his life and his shoulders were wide enough to bear it.

On the contrary, Charkov was still strongly upset by what happened: the man had a real idolatry for control and censorship.

"When the paparazzo met Shcherbina, Professor Legasov was with him."

"Yes."

"I have been told that they are often together."

"Yes," Ulana repeated, "in case you missed it, Professor Legasov helps Boris build his character."

"And it can be said that they also became good friends."

"The last time I checked, it wasn't a crime."

"Don't be naive, Comrade Khomyuk, you know that sooner or later their close friendship will make people talk, and this wouldn't please my clients."

Ulana closed the briefcase and stood up: "We can't be responsible for what a magazine publishes."

“Yes, you are, if what is written is true. For the bakers, the only thing that matters is that this series is successful: the private vicissitudes of the actors must not divert attention or damage the image of the company in any way with a scandal, or there will be consequences. Say this to your client."

Ulana told him, and Boris reacted exactly as she expected, getting furious.

“I only work for this TV series: neither Charkov nor anyone else can put their nose in my private life, or come and tell me how to behave off set or who I can meet. If I want to pull my pants down in a bar, I do it."

Ulana gave him an alarmed look, and Boris rolled his eyes: "It was just an example."

"Oh, with you one never knows."

Boris huffed: “Come on, it's not the first time that a magazine writes a gossip article about some actor, and no production has ever been fatally damaged by this. Charkov's obsession is ridiculous."

"I know Boris, but..."

"What? What should I do?" the actor shouted, gesturing animatedly, "Stop talking to Valery just because someone speaks behind our backs? Because a bunch of bigots consider it scandalous that we are friends?"

"Is that what you feel for him, friendship?"

"Are you on Charkov’s side, now?"

"I'm your agent, to help you I have to know what's going on," Ulana replied, completely calm and used to Boris' outbursts.

“Nothing is happening! I love Valery's company, but we... we're just friends," he hesitated, as if he himself doubted what he had just said: he hadn’t forgot that night in his hotel room. Then he went on, more calmly, "Listen, I'm not a child, I know how to behave, you haven’t any reason to worry."

Ulana got up to leave: "Of course, I just wanted to let you know what Charkov thinks about it."

"Next time you see him, tell him I clean my shoes with his opinion."

"I think he already knows it," the agent laughed, then wished his client a good day, and went back to her office: it was time to study a battle plan.

Maybe nothing would happen, but something told Ulana that at least Boris no longer considered Valery only a good friend, and if it was the same for the professor, as she thought, they had a time bomb in their hands ready to explode.

Working for the show business for several years, Ulana knew how to move when it came to contracts, and she had already partially covered her client's back, as she always did, but now she had to read again the contracts of both of them carefully, to strengthen the defenses.

 _"One thing is for sure: I won't be bored in the coming months,"_ she thought, starting the engine.

"Dammit..." Boris swore when Ulana was out, then put his hands on his hips and sighed, closing his eyes: of course he didn't want the tabloids to pounce on Valery, they could be really cruel and Valery didn’t deserve to be targeted by them.

He had long since learned to simply ignore the slander, but for Valery it would have been a shock.

However, he wouldn’t give up spending time with him just because of some idiot's insinuations.

Their relationship was their business only, no one else had the right to interfere... whatever the nature of their relationship was.

For the first time he admitted to himself that the interest he felt for the scientist went beyond a normal friendship, there were other feelings involved.

That extraordinary chemistry between them was stronger than ever.

"Please, don't lose your pass," Leonid warned, as he drove the electric cart to the _"Infinite Impact"_ set.

Valery checked several times that the safety pin with which he had pinned it to his jacket was tightly closed, and nodded.

Along the way, Leonid illustrated what they were shooting in the different facilities: a Sherlock Holmes tv movie [1], a science fiction series, a period drama about the construction of the Trans-Siberian railway... in the main square there were various actors and extras during a break wearing their stage costumes and chatting to each other: it seemed as if several timelines had collided.

Valery found it incredibly funny.

On the set of _"Infinite Impact"_ had been rebuilt Ruslan's office and apartment, the control room and some corridors of the nuclear power plant, a politician's office, and other smaller locations.

The director hadn’t yet arrived, Boris was sitting on some wooden crates in a corner, waiting, and raised his hand when he saw Valery, inviting him to come closer.

Due to the building of the new set, they hadn't seen each other for a few days, and Boris realized that he had missed him very much.

 _"More than you could possibly miss a friend,"_ whispered a voice in his head, which Boris decided to ignore.

"So, what do you think?" he asked the professor, pointing to the technicians who were securing bright green panels on the walls, and marking black Xs with adhesive tape on the ground.

"It's... minimalist," ventured Valery, who had no idea what he was looking at.

Boris chuckled, then explained: “It’s chroma key [2], a technique that allows you to add a digital background after we have shot the scene: we act on the green background, imagining that we are in a certain place, but it will be added only later with special effects. The Xs on the floor indicate where objects will be placed, so we don’t step on them."

"It's amazing."

"The technique isn’t new, but it’s becoming popular only now, thanks to the computers. Until a few years ago we only used matte painting [3]: the effect was less realistic for the audience, but for us it was easier."

Valery looked at the green screen again, trying to imagine a real place, complete with furnishings, and he failed.

"I guess you’re right."

Boris leaned his elbows on his knees and chuckled again, but this time an almost sad sound came out, “Yet the future is this. A new revolution is upon us, comparable only to the advent of the sound, and, like every revolution, it will claim its victims."

Valery looked at him, amazed by that serious statement, and Boris went on, more and more melancholic, “Maybe you don't know, but many silent movie stars were unable to adapt to the new reality of sound when it came, because they based their acting almost exclusively on miming, so they found themselves jobless. The studios quickly forgot about them, finding new actors and, well... sometimes I feel that the same thing is about to happen now: if actors like me won’t adapt to the digital revolution, they will be put at the door."

Boris didn't want to afflict Valery with his bad thoughts, but he had been reflecting on that aspect of his work for a while. He had never given a voice to those thoughts, had never confided his anxieties to anyone, but it was spontaneous, almost natural to open up with Valery.

The professor bit his lips, then looked Boris straight in the eye: “Years ago, I had a bad day. I know bad days can always happen, but this was really tough: I expected a promotion that didn't come, even if I deserved it... corruption, political games... it may seem strange but they exist also in academic circles. However, I was so embittered that I seriously thought about dropping the professorship at the university, my lab researches, everything, and leaving. As I walked down the street, I passed by a small cinema and, since I had nothing better to do that day, I entered. They projected _"The fate of the galaxy"_."

Boris hid his face in his hands and groaned: he hadn’t always been satisfied with the movies he had done, some had been very bad, and _"The fate of the galaxy"_ , a film shot with a few rubles by a very small production company, fell fully in that category.

"No! That movie is terrible,” he yelped.

"It is," Valery agreed, adjusting his glasses, "Even I noticed it, and I didn’t understand anything about cinema, but I understood one thing: you did your best anyway, you acted at the best of your ability, the only actor of the whole cast. It was quite clear that the others didn't believe in it, but not you, you were that character, you made him real, and it really struck me. I remember I thought, _"if this man manages to be so professional when everything around him goes wrong, then I too can go on and continue to do my best."_ I guess... yes, I guess that's when I became your fan," Valery looked down at his hands, then looked back at the set under construction, "So I doubt a green screen can stop you: you can be whoever you want, no matter where you are, you can even act on a completely empty set and make it real."

Boris squeezed Valery’s hand tightly, regardless of anyone's seeing them. He didn't care, he didn't care about anything except Valery and his words.

"It's beautiful... what you said."

"And it's true," Valery said. He still didn't look him in the eye, but he squeezed Boris' hand briefly.

"Thank you, Valera, I feel much better now," said the actor, without letting go of his hand. He wasn’t only a brilliant scientist, but also a wonderful human being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Homage to Sherlock Holmes' Russian TV movies, "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson" starring Vasily Livanov and Vitaly Solomin (if you have never seen them, search for them: they are incredibly cool and well done).  
> In reality Holmes movies aren’t a production of Mosfil’m, but of Lenfil'm, based in Leningrad.
> 
> [2] Known also as blue screen and green screen, it’s exactly what Boris says: a post-production technique that use a background of a uniform color that can be easily canceled and replaced with a digital background.
> 
> [3] A technique where the backgrounds were painted on wood or cloth to simulate outdoor landscapes when shooting indoors. The effect was certainly less realistic, but before computers it was largely used (for example, the background of alien cities of Star Trek TOS are made with matte painting).


	8. Scene 3 - Take 2

One afternoon, when the shooting in the studios was about to end, Valery brought a copy of Kvant magazine to the set [1]: in the issue of that month they interviewed several academics, asking them how they got passionate about scientific disciplines, and he was sure that Boris would like it. It was one of their favorite conversation topics.

The actor's dressing room had replaced the trailer during the breaks.

Besides, contrary to what Valery had feared, their friendship hadn’t faded. In fact, he felt him closer and closer to Boris, so much that it was like touching the sky with a finger.

However that day the studio was strangely empty and all the doors were closed.

Valery looked around in confusion until he met Leonid and Pavel.

"Hi guys, what's going on?"

"This afternoon the set is closed," Leonid explained, "Only the strictly necessary personnel accesses."

"Why?" Legasov asked curiously: it had never happened before. "Are they filming a surprise post-credits scene?"

"No," Pavel said, "it's the sex scene. We cameraman assistants cannot access the set either. It's to give the actors a minimum of privacy, as far as possible."

"Oh... oh, I understand... well, I'm going home, then," Valery stammered, suddenly uncomfortable, as he struggled to hold off an unpleasant lump of grudge at the pit of his stomach.

"No, Comrade Shcherbina knew you would come by and he wants you to wait for him at the bar that is just outside the studios. He'll join you there when he's done filming," Leonid told him.

Valery nodded and left the studios, but he didn't want to wait for Boris at the bar, he wanted to get as far away from there as possible, go home and sulk for the rest of his days.

The most rational part of his brain told him that he was behaving in a very childish way: like the kiss, it was just fiction and Boris had shot countless sex scenes in his career. Besides Boris owed him nothing, Valery had to seriously get a grip on himself.

But nothing managed to dispel his unhappiness.

That had happened before, his heart screamed, before they knew each other, before they spent all that time together, before Boris took his hand, as if Valery were truly special.

Now he felt only an acid and angry jealousy corroding his bowels.

He passed in front of the bar, walked past it with grim resolution, but then stopped, put his hands on his hips and lowered his head, sighing: Boris wasn’t responsible for his silly feelings, Valery couldn’t leave slamming the door like a boy throwing a tantrum.

He went back, entered the bar, sat on the stool in the darkest corner of the counter and made a fatal mistake.

"A vodka," he ordered.

On the radio, Laima Vaikule sang "Vernissage" and Valery found it perfectly suited to his dark mood. [2]

The waiting lasted for a couple of hours, a vodka became two, then three, then four and, as the alcohol entered in his blood, Valery began to mutter meaningless gibberish to himself.

When he asked the bartender to fill his glass again, the man hesitated: in his opinion he had drunk too much, but after all, as long as he paid, it was none of his business.

Boris found Valery like that when he entered the bar, head resting on the counter, furrowed brows and glossy eyes.

"Valera? Are you okay?" Boris touched his arm, but Valery pulled away, as if he was deeply offended.

Boris looked at the bartender questioningly, but the man shrugged, continuing to dry the glasses with a tea towel.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with him, man, he has been like that since he entered."

"Valera, what’s the matter?" Boris tried again, and this time Valery mumbled something.

"You have to speak louder, I didn’t hear you."

"I hate…"

"What do you hate?"

"I HATE... EVERYTHING!" the professor shrieked. He straightened up on the stool and lost his balance, and Boris had to grab him to prevent him from falling.

"Yes, fuck it all!" echoed another patron of the bar who was sitting at a nearby table, drunk as and perhaps more than Valery.

"Fuck... fuck... yes..." Valery muttered, heavily leaning against the actor's side. The man sitting at the table reinforced the message with unrepeatable blasphemies.

Boris chuckled: he didn't know why Valery was in such a bad mood, maybe it was just because he was drunk, but the situation was surreal enough to be funny.

"Okay, I say that there is a little too much negativity in here, what if we go away?"

"Fuck it all..." Valery repeated with a gurgling sound.

"I take it for a yes."

Boris paid for the drinks, put his arm around Valery's waist and dragged him out of the bar.

He realized he didn't know where Valery lived, but the man had an urgent need to lie down to get rid of the hangover, so he decided to take him to his apartment.

Maybe Ulana knew Valery’s address, but it was evening already, and he didn't want to bother her (nor to hear her say that it was a terrible idea, since the paparazzi often roamed the neighborhood where Boris lived).

By the time he placed him in the car, Valery was almost asleep, but he kept muttering to himself.

"Do you still hate everything?" Boris asked, getting into the evening traffic.

The movement of the car wasn’t helping Valery's nausea at all; he closed his eyes, looking miserable, "Now more than ever."

"Yes, I can understand it."

Boris tried to ask him again what had upsetted him so much, but Valery merely repeated that he hated everything, and hated himself because he was a fool, but without giving him any other explanation.

Boris took his hand away from the gear shift and placed it on Valery's one.

"You aren’t stupid, you’re the most intelligent and sensitive man I know."

For the first time during the evening, Valery's gaze brightened, even if it remained deeply drunk.

"Do you really think that?"

"Yes."

"You’re so good to me," Valery muttered.

"You deserve it."

Valery gurgled with happiness.

Boris thought he was adorable.

It took all of Boris' strength to drag the uncoordinated professor into the elevator and then down the corridor to his apartment, but when he leaned him against the wall to turn on the light in the hallway, Valery suddenly threw his arms around his neck and kissed him.

Surprised, Boris didn’t react, overwhelmed by the softness of Valery's lips, by the body pressed insistently against his, by the hands that caressed his hair.

That chemistry exploded like a supernova, and Boris couldn’t lie to himself: he wanted him, he had dreamed of this moment.

It was only when he tasted the strong and bitter tang of vodka on the tip of his tongue that he regained control of himself and broke the kiss by bowing his head: Valery wasn’t lucid, he didn’t know what he was doing.

"It's not a good idea."

"No, no," Valery protested, "it's a wonderful idea." He loosened Boris tie and started to unbutton his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers.

Boris had a hard time keeping him at bay: Valery seemed to have four hands.

"Wait…"

"Why you don’t want me?" cried the professor in a petulant voice.

"Because you're drunk, Valera."

"Yesh" he exclaimed proudly, "I am."

"And I won't take advantage of you, it would be wrong." Boris persuaded him to move towards the bedroom, but Valery continued to look at him sulking and petulant, and raised his index finger, pressing it on Boris’ chest.

"You don't know what you're giving up, I'd be the best fuck of your whole life."

Boris gaped at him: he never imagined that Valery could be so uninhibited as a drunk.

"It isn’t hard to believe," the actor said, but he put Valery chivalrously on the bed and took off his shoes and glasses.

Valery's arms surrounded his shoulders again.

"Stay," he pleaded.

"You're drunk," repeated Boris closing his eyes: above all it was a warning to himself, to to refrain from doing something that was wrong.

If it happened, they both had to be clear-headed.

"Goodnight kiss?" Valery insisted, looking at him hopefully, and Boris smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"Sweet dreams."

Boris closed the door behind him and adjusted his trousers: it had been the right decision, but it hadn't been easy.

If nothing else, he thought, they had stopped tiptoeing around the subject, and now the cards were on the table. For some time there had been a silent and underground attraction between them, but neither of them had had the courage to admit and talk openly about it.

Their status of good friends was great, but that, the actor thought, touching his lips, that was better.

And when Valery’s hangover had gone away... he smiled, going to sleep in the guest room.

Valery opened his eyes with a deep grunt of suffering: that's why he never drank, just a few glasses were enough to make him lose control and reduce him like a wreck.

He covered his face with his hands and slowly became aware of the environment around him: the mattress too soft, the sheets smoother than his, an unknown scent.

He sat up abruptly: it wasn't his bedroom!

"What happened last night?" he whispered, terrified. He squeezed the bedspread between his fingers and tried to remember: Toptunov explaining to him why the set was closed, the bar, the glasses of vodka, Boris coming to get him...

Boris! Was he at Boris' place?

A look at some photos on a dresser confirmed that yes, he was right in the actor's bedroom.

Suddenly remembering what had happened the night before no longer seemed like a good idea.

"What have I done? What the hell have I done last night?" he stammered, feeling the panic climbing up his back. He quickly put on his shoes and glasses and ventured out in the corridor.

Boris was having breakfast when he saw him appear in the kitchen doorway, and got up.

"Valery, how are you feeling?"

"I'm sorry, I'm immensely sorry..."

Boris chuckled, "Okay, but this doesn't answer my question."

“I'm fine now, thank you, thank you very much for what you did last night, but you shouldn't have. You should have left me in that bar, I deserved it."

"Don't even say it."

"I gave you so much trouble..."

"It's not a problem," Boris tried to calm him down, but it didn't work.

Valery was mortally ashamed, then his mind sent him a flashback from the night before: his arms around Boris' neck, his lips that... at that point he really wanted to die, and reached the front door almost running.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated again, almost frantic in his discomfort, "I'm leaving now and I won't bother you anymore."

"No, it's all right, I assure you, you didn't bother me," Boris said in a firm voice, but Valery couldn't believe him: Boris was lying only out of politeness, because the night before he had done much more than bothering him.

"Valery..." Boris whispered, reading the emotions on his face without much difficulty, "Do you remember what happened last night?"

Valery shook his head without speaking, but stubbornly stared at the floor.

Sensing that Valery was deeply uncomfortable and that he needed space, not being cornered, Boris scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

Valery looked at the sequence of numbers without understanding.

"It's my phone number: if your memory comes back, or if you just want to talk, call me." He knew from experience that talking on the phone was easier when a deep embarrassment had to be overcome.

"I don't think it's..."

“I'd like to, Valera, I mean it. It's all right,” Boris repeated gently.

The poor professor's heart started to beat wildly as he took the number.

"I... thank you..."

Boris smiled: "Well, don't you give me your number?"

"I don't have a phone at home, only in the office."

"Really?"

It was bizarre, Boris would have understood it if Valery had lived in a remote village in the Ussuri valley, but everyone in Moscow had a telephone at home!

"I mean, I had it, but a few months ago I tripped over the cable and tore it off the wall. I have to get it fixed."

"And you've been without phone all this time?"

Valery shrugged: “I have a phone in the office for business calls, and I don't need it at home, nobody ever calls me. But… maybe I'll fix it now," he added with a small smile.

"I hope so."

"You... you hope so?" Valery whispered incredulously.

"Yes," Boris admitted calmly, "And in the meantime I'm waiting for you to call me."

Valery nodded, wished him a good day and went out.

His head ached from the hangover, he was still upset and ashamed of how he had behaved the previous evening, but he no longer wanted to jump out of a window: Boris didn’t seem angry, quite the opposite. He had given him his personal number and wanted to talk to him about what had happened and, perhaps, about what still could happen.

So now Valery would go home, take a shower, put his thoughts in order, and...

A large dark black Volga pulled up to the curb, the rear window lowered and Charkov looked coldly at Valery: "Get in the car, Professor Legasov, we have to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Kvant (Quantum) is an interesting physics and mathematics journal, published between 1970 and 2011, when it became an online magazine.  
> Its foundation is due to the Soviet Academy of Sciences.
> 
> [2] Another Soviet pop music star from the 1980s. "Vernissage" tells the story of a woman who falls in love at first sight with a man met at an exhibition of paintings and is pining because he has another woman, and they can’t be together.
> 
> And like Moriarty says in (BBC)Sherlock: "Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain."


	9. Scene 3 - Take 3

At first, Valery wanted to refuse: he didn’t like the tone of the lawyer, it was as if he had ordered him to get in the car, but Charkov insisted, "For the good of everyone and especially of Comrade Shcherbina, I suggest you to get in."

Was it about Boris?

Valery walked around the car and opened the door.

"What do you want?" he began, but Charkov simply dropped a couple of photographs on his lap.

They were dark, grainy, but unequivocal: Boris supported him with an arm around his waist and dragged him into the building where he lived.

"When I gave you a copy of the contract to sign, I told you to read each clause carefully, but evidently you didn't."

"I don’t understand."

“The morality clause is very clear: do something that can offend the reputation of the film studio and we will sue you. And don't doubt that we will."

"I was just drunk and Boris helped me," Valery defended himself, "Nothing happened."

It wasn’t exactly true, but Charkov couldn’t known, and Legasov clung to that belief to give strength to his words.

"First of all, getting drunk is shameful and disgraceful," continued the lawyer in his single-minded voice, "secondly, what has or hasn't happened doesn't matter, it only matters what it seems. This is the truth that people will believe, and it’s an indecent truth," he hissed, without bothering to hide his disgust.

Valery pursed his lips and gave the lawyer a hateful look: "I repeat that nothing happened and your story is a lie."

“For now, maybe. But I'm not blind."

"No, you're paranoid," Legasov spat.

“So you don't even care about the consequences these photos could have on Comrade Shcherbina's career? The love of fans is volatile: they adore actors, until they do something that destroys the image that fans have of them. At that point, they turn their backs on them and that career is over."

Like the silent movie stars Boris had told Valery about.

Valery held his breath and widened his eyes in horror: he hadn't thought of that. And the last thing he wanted was to damage Boris' career, he would never forgive himself.

"This time, however, you were lucky," continued the lawyer, "these photos were taken by one of my collaborators, not by a paparazzo, so they won't end up in a tabloid newspaper."

“Do you follow Boris around? Why?"

Charkov adjusted his glasses on his nose: "It's simple: my only goal is to protect the interests of my clients, even with preventive actions, if necessary, so now we will make an agreement."

"Oh, will we do it?" Valery retorted in a combative voice, but he knew he had no weapons: Charkov had the strength of the law and the contract on his side.

"Yes, we will. From today on, you will no longer have any contact either with Boris Shcherbina or with his agent. Make up any excuse, I don't care, as long as you stop seeing him. In return, my law firm will forget this episode: it will not sue you, leaving you penniless, and Shcherbina's career will not be undermined by disgusting rumors."

"But…"

“The filming is practically finished and so is your scientific consulting. Have a nice day, Comrade Legasov."

"What if I refuse?" Valery tried to reply one last time, because accepting Charkov's blackmail so passively made him feel like a coward. 

Just now that he and Boris...

For the first time the lawyer showed an emotion and laughed, as if he were genuinely amused by his words: "Why worry about something that won't happen?"

The driver opened the door and Valery had no choice but to bow his head and get off, defeated.

"It’s a very advantageous agreement for you," Charkov insisted, "If such a sordid story should come to light, do you believe that the University would allow you to continue teaching? You should thank me." That said, he nodded to the driver and the car disappeared into traffic.

The threat of losing everything in a lawsuit frightened him, but if the consequences had only fallen on him, he would have dealt with them. Instead Charkov would attack Boris too, he would take away from him the job he loved so much, that was everything to him.

Valery had to protect him at all costs, no matter how much it hurt to be separated from Boris: he couldn't allow his feelings to ruin Boris’ life.

He returned to his office and phoned Sitnikov, explaining that he was terribly behind with his students' lessons and exams, so he could no longer go to the set.

"I understand it perfectly," the producer said, "don't worry, there is little more than a week to go until the end of the filming and they aren’t important scenes, we will do it alone. Obviously I hope to see you again at the party."

"Party? Which party?"

"Nobody told you about it?" Sitnikov sighed, “When the filming is over, we always throw a party with the cast and crew members. It’s a way to thank everyone for the work done and also to say goodbye."

"Here, I don’t know if I can..."

"Of course, if it interferes with your commitments, you aren’t obliged to participate, but with the help you has given us, we would be pleased to have you with us one last time. In the meantime, I will send you the invitation."

"Thanks," said Valery, but hung up without confirming his participation, then took off his glasses and put his forehead on his fists: he was already missing Boris terribly, and only a few hours had passed, but in those months he had made friends with others people, too: Svetlana Zinchenko, Lenya, always so kind and helpful, the young Pavel... he would have liked to see them again, to say them goodbye.

But it wouldn't have happened.

He crumpled the note with Boris' phone number and threw it in the trash bin, but before leaving his office he retrieved it.

He wasn't going to call him and get him into trouble, no, but realized that that was the only thing of Boris he would have.

"Where's Valery?" Boris asked the next day after the filming was over. Sometimes it happened that the Professor was late on set, but he never skipped a day.

Leonid shrugged: neither he nor the other assistants had seen him.

When he got home that evening, he checked the answering machine first, but he had no messages.

Maybe, the actor thought, he needed a few days to reflect on what had happened between them. Or maybe it was his fault, because Boris hadn't been clear enough to make Valery understand his feelings.

If the professor hadn't been drunk, the evening would have ended very differently, it would have been the beginning of something beautiful.

"Dammit," he sighed, "why didn't I tell him?"

Valery no longer showed up on set, and even Ulana's attempts to get in touch with him were unsuccessful: the secretary at the University simply stated that Professor Legasov was terribly sorry, but he was very busy.

It could have been true, after all the Professor had neglected a lot his commitments to be the consultant for the miniseries, but the timing was suspect, since Valery had disappeared immediately after their kiss.

Boris wondered if he had misrepresented everything in those months: Valery's kind smiles, his looks, their confidences... maybe Valery had kissed him only because he was drunk and out of his mind, but after he sobered up, he wasn't interested in a relationship with him.

“Did something happen between the two of you? Boris?" Ulana tried to ask him, but got no answer.

On the evening of the party, Boris arrived very early.

Every time someone entered the hall he turned to the door with a hopeful smile, and every time he was disappointed, because it wasn't Valery.

When the last guest entered, he was sure of it: Valery wouldn't come.

Okay, he told himself, he was perfectly capable of reading between the lines and Valery's message had come clearly to him: he didn't want to see him anymore.

"Boris Stolyarchuk is here for the official photos, can you at least pretend to have fun?" said Ulana, elegant in her green dress, as she handed him a cocktail.

"Of course, I'm an actor after all." Boris' smile didn't reach his eyes as he took the glass and emptied it with a grimace, "It's non-alcoholic."

"The evening has just begun."

"Sorry, but I need a stronger support."

"Boris..."

"I'll be fine," he reassured her, walking away to the bar.

After two marriages and some minor relationship failed, he should be used to it by now, even if he thought this time it would have been different, that Valery was  _ that  _ person, the right person, the one who appears in your life as if by magic and stay forever.

But life was never like that of his movies, he should have known better than anyone else.

The buffet and the company were pleasant and Boris wore his most credible mask, but he wasn’t the life of the party like on other occasions.

Around midnight, Zinchenko and her boyfriend decided to go home, but first the actress wanted to greet her co-star. He found Boris on the terrace, leaning against the banister, alone.

"Boris?"

"Hi, Sveta."

"Maksim and I are leaving, but I wanted to thank you: it was fantastic to work with you."

"It was a privilege for me too," he replied, shaking her hand.

“Listen, I have wanted to ask you for days: what happened to Professor Legasov? He disappeared suddenly and..."

"Ah-ha, here you are!" Stolyarchuk exclaimed, walking on the terrace, "How about a nice photo of the two main characters of the series?"

"Sure," replied Boris, gallantly placing his hand on Zinchenko's shoulder and leaning towards her.

A second later they were dazzled by the flash.

"Perfect, this certainly ends up in the video cassette insert."

The photographer returned to the hall, looking for someone else to photograph, and Zinchenko looked at Shcherbina, hoping to be able to resume the interrupted speech, but the veil of sadness that she saw in his eyes made her give up: something had certainly happened between those two, but it wasn't her business.

"Well, goodbye Boris."

"I wish you the best, Sveta."

The hall was emptying, and Boris decided to go home; while he was in the cloakroom he was intercepted by Charkov.

"I agree with Stolyarchuk, the photograph he took is very beautiful, the fans will go crazy."

"What?" Boris replied icily, "aren’t you terrified at the idea of someone embroidering an untrue story based on that photo? That someone could gossip about a possible affair between me and Zinchenko?"

The lawyer spread his arms: "That would be a perfectly tolerable fantasy."

Suddenly Boris was sure of it: if Valery had disappeared, it was Charkov's fault.

Only the awareness of being in a public place held back the furious anger that exploded in his bowels and prevented him from hitting the man. He straightened his back, rising to his full height, and took a step towards the lawyer.

"You said something to Valery," he said in a deadly calm voice, "that's why he never came back on set."

The lawyer gave him a bored look: "I just did my job and reminded him of the terms of the contract. Do I have to do it with you too, Comrade Shcherbina?"

Boris didn’t let himself be intimidated and didn’t answered: he just buttoned his coat and turned to leave, already knowing what to do next, but Charkov spoke again.

“How many movies and TV shows have you done in your life, Comrade? One hundred, one hundred and twenty? Undoubtedly many, but you never won an award. One might almost think that you are inconsequential."

Boris clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm: Charkov had touched a bare nerve, because although Boris was a highly appreciated actor, the moment when his talent was recognized by critics had never come.

_ "He's just provoking you, don't fall into his trap." _

"But things could change with this latter role," continued Charkov, "Ruslan is a deep and complex character, the audience will love him and the critics will know how to reward you as you deserves, if you don’t do anything stupid that would end up only to sabotage yourself."

"My value as an actor doesn’t depend on the choices I make in my private life: that's just my business."

"Oh please, don't tell me that Professor Legasov infected you with his stupid naivete. Everything is connected, I can make it connected, and I will, if you or Legasov damage this production."

"Is it a menace?"

"No, it's free legal advice."

This time, Boris told Charkov, in explicit and unequivocal terms, what the lawyer could do with his advice, then he left the hall.

Ulana saw him go, then turned her head towards Charkov.

_ "At the battle station," _ she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously in this universe I imagine that homosexuality is only a moral (or contractual) issue, and not also a crime, as it was in fact in the Soviet Union.


	10. Scene 4 - Take 1

Valery entered the classroom wearing a long sand-colored trench coat that almost reached his feet.

The lights had been dimmed because slides had to be projected for the lesson and only his desk was illuminated.

Almost towards the end of the lesson, the professor looked at his watch: "Well, I would say that's all for today."

In the shadow of the classroom, his students showed signs of nervousness, but Valery continued to play dumb.

"Something wrong, guys?"

"Professor, stop joking, tell us about the exam!" exclaimed Nestor, one of the boys sitting in the front row.

"Oh, the exam..." Valery smacked his hand on his forehead, but after a short pause he opened the briefcase and pulled out a packet of papers. "I’m very proud of you, it’s clear that you have studied hard, because you have all passed the exam."

The class erupted in applause and shouts of jubilation.

"And, if I remember correctly, I made you a promise," Valery continued.

"Indeed!" said the boy from before.

"If everyone had passed the exam, I would have done something ridiculous, so..."

The professor unbuttoned his trench coat, revealing a flamboyant fiery red suit. The students tried to restrain themselves, but then burst out laughing; someone whistled his approval.

Valery raised his hands and smiled: “Okay, okay, the show is over, come and get your papers. And I hope you will study with the same commitment for the next exam even without incentives, because I’m not going to wear a fuchsia suit or a floral shirt." [1]

The students laughed again and crowded around the desk, someone stopped to ask Legasov for clarification on the lesson, but in the end the professor was left alone to collect his stuff.

The smile he had shown to the students so far went out, overshadowed by a melancholy gaze. He loved to teach, and when he was in the classroom he could pretend that nothing had changed, but as soon as he was alone, sadness assailed him, giving him no respite.

He didn’t believe it was possible to miss someone so much, to the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Many times he had been on the verge of dialing Boris' number, without saying anything, only to hear his deep voice again.

"Now I understand why you are their favourite professor," said the same voice somewhere in the dark, at the top of the amphitheater.

Shocked, Valery dropped his briefcase to the ground.

"Bo... Boris?"

"In flesh and blood."

The actor went down the steps, until he entered the circle of light that illuminated the desk; he wore a light gray wool vest over dark trousers and had his hands sunk into his pockets; his hair was gray and thick again, and his appearance was the same as always: with the filming over, the character of Ruslan was gone.

Valery's lips trembled as he tried to smile at him: how long had it been, less than a month? It seemed like an eternity.

But why was Boirs there?

_ "Because you have been so rude, disappearing into thin air, that obviously he wants explanations, what else?" _ he said to himself, feeling guilty.

However, Boris didn’t appear angry or offended as he leaned against the desk. He was calm, and smiled a little.

"This colour suits you," he said, pointing to Valery's suit with his chin.

The professor blushed and scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed: "It was just a silly bet with my students, an incentive to make them study."

Boris said nothing, just kept looking at him, and Valery felt compelled to say something to fill the silence.

"It's... that's why I didn't come to the studios anymore, you know: the lessons... my students... a lot of things to do..." he stammered, but then realized that justifying his actions without Boris asking anything, was like accusing himself implicitly.

What was that old Latin saying again?  _ Excusatio non petita, accusatio manifesta. _ [2]

Fuck, he was really a bad actor.

Boris was still silent, and Valery was getting more and more agitated, so he turned to the blackboard, took the duster and erased the formulas written with the chalk.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he murmured, without knowing what else to say. He only knew that he had to keep Boris safe, had to tell him to leave, that their collaboration was now over, but when he opened his lips, only a fragile "forgive me," slipped out, as he continued to erase the writing on the blackboard almost with fury.

Boris approached him; slowly, as if afraid of scaring him, he put his hand on Valery's, stopping him, then leaned on his back and slipped his other hand under the red jacket, placing it on his side.

Valery gasped and closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations: the intense and sweet smell of Boris’ cologne, his regular breathing on the neck, the thumb of his hand gently stroking the back of his, the other hand, hot on the fabric of the shirt, Boris’ whole body, solid and strong, pressed against his back and legs.

Boris bent his neck and his lips whispered "Valera," a few millimeters from his ear in a low, deep voice; the professor shivered from head to toe and the duster fell from his hand.

"Valera," Boris repeated again, and his large hand squeezed gently the soft flesh of his side, in a gesture that was both soothing and arousing, "Let me look at you."

Docile, Valery turned and opened his eyes, meeting Boris’ gray ones, so intense that they seemed to be able to look into his soul.

"Finally, I was afraid that my sex appeal would no longer work."

Valery barely smiled at his joke and sighed: "Boris..."

A finger landed on his lips.

"I know everything."

"Then you know we can't."

Boris' arms slid around his waist and Valery found himself against his large chest. Boris' lips landed on his forehead in a gentle caress.

Valery whimpered, fearing that he could fall apart at any moment.

“Listen, Valery, I'm not saying it will be easy: as you have already seen, the paparazzi are extremely intrusive, and the reaction of people, if someone finds out about us, could be unpleasant. I don't want to lie to you and tell you that it would have no effect on your life, because it could happen. So if the reason that drove you away from me is this, I will understand it. But at least this would have been a better farewell, wouldn't it?"

Boris' voice seemed to him to waver, and Valery found himself on the verge of tears. He raised one hand and stroked his face.

“No Boris, this is not the reason. Charkov..."

"No!" Boris interrupted him vehemently and for a moment he appeared furious, "I don't want to hear that name."

"But he…"

Boris took Valery’s face in his hands: “He is nobody! We are free to decide what we can do, and the question is only one: do you want it? Because I want it."

Valery looked at him incredulously: Boris Shcherbina, a handsome, wealthy and famous man, one of the most loved actors in the country, who could have anyone… wanted him?

Boris chuckled at his astonished expression, lowering his voice to a very sensual whisper: “Are you surprised? Then I’ve to make a confession: that evening, at my place, I had a hard time holding back. I’m sincere Valera, I want you."

Boris knew to be devastating if he wanted, and how could Valery resist him? He wore a ridiculous red suit while Boris was on him, all around him, saying things that... Valery stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on the actor's thin lips, holding on his broad shoulders.

Many times, since he left the set, he had thought about the drunken kiss of that night, but this was completely on another planet.

Boris' fingers held him possessively on his hips, his lips kissed him in an almost ravenous way, while Valery's fingers were lost in his gray hair. The professor sighed in delight when Boris' tongue touched his lips and he parted them, enjoying the erotic caress.

"Are you sure that...?"

With a little growl of frustration, Boris pushed him against the blackboard, one knee between his legs, making him feel exactly how sure he was.

"Stop worrying about the wrong things."

"Wrong? Boris, your reputation, your career is at stake! Charkov is right about this: if people learned about us, your image would probably suffer irreparable damage. You know what people think of homosexuality in this country!"

“As much as I love the audience, I don't allow anyone to affect my life because of shitty prejudices. Because that's what it is about: mine and your life, our happiness."

"Happiness?"

Boris pushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen on Valery’s forehead: "Haven’t you been happy in these months?"

Valery put his hands on his chest: "If I say I've never been so happy, will you think I stole the phrase from one of your films?"

"There is nothing wrong with that, if it is the truth."

"And you, have you been...?"

Boris didn’t let him finish the sentence, took his face in his hands and kissed him again, leaving him breathless.

"Is that a comprehensive answer?"

"Very."

"So, how about we go back to my apartment and pick up where we left off?"

"My apartment is closer," Valery said in one breath, "and then... um... there are no paparazzi in my neighborhood, it's quiet and nobody... mh... would disturb us."

Boris kissed him under the ear: "You seem to have a very accurate script of the evening in mind."

Finally Valery laughed too, leaving the tension and sadness of the past weeks behind himself.

"Exactly, and there is a starring role for you in this story."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly sexy when you're so bold?"

Valery shook his head, stroking the soft wool of Boris’ vest, "No, maybe because I've never been bold in my life. Only you make me crazy."

"How much?"

Valery took him by the hand and pulled him towards the exit.

"Let's find out together."

It wasn't a movie.

There was no script to follow, the clothes didn’t fall elegantly on the floor in a whisper of silk, but were removed with a hint of hesitation; there were no winking looks, shrewd jokes, romantic music in the background and soft lights to conceal the flaws and the wrinkles of two bodies no longer young, but incredibly aroused.

That was the reality, and it was raw, as sharp as the neon light from Valery's bedroom.

_ "Who has a neon in the bedroom?" _ Boris wondered absent-mindedly as he pushed Valery onto the mattress. Then there was a long and embarrassing pause when Boris' fingers slipped between his buttocks and Valery told him he had no lube. No, there would have been no such hitch in a script.

The scientist struggled to find an alternative; finally he ran into the kitchen, naked as he was, to get some oil, and went back to the room murmuring his apologies, but Boris stroked his buttocks reassuring him that he had enjoyed the sight.

There were wet kisses, sighs and indecent moans, almost ridiculous in their urgency, there were Valery's hands holding Boris’ arms so tightly that they would leave marks, there were Boris' fingers that made their way into him with barely restrained impatience.

It was imperfect, but true and honest, and Boris loved madly every moment of that night.

After having cleaned themselves up in the bathroom and gone back to bed, Boris lifted himself up on one elbow and looked at Valery with a pleased smile (he felt extremely pleased indeed).

"You didn't lie," he said, running a finger over his lover's chest.

"About what?"

Boris leaned over to kiss his ear: "You were the best fuck of my whole life."

Valery covered his eyes with one arm and blushed violently: "I was hoping you had forgotten..."

"Look at you, you're redder than your suit," the actor marveled with a smile: he didn't believe that a body could blush so much.

"Stop that!" Valery playfully slapped his shoulder.

"Oh, I don't think so," Boris replied, kissing his heated skin.

"What’s up with you, do you have an obsession with the colour red?"

Boris ran a hand through the fine reddish hair, "It may be," he murmured fondly, then kissed Valery on the forehead and closed his eyes, leaving an arm resting on his chest.

He was sure that Valery wanted to talk about what they would do, about Charkov, and much more, and they would do it, they had to. But that night he just wanted to hold Valery in his arms and not think about anything.

People thought that actors had a life eternally full of parties and friends, but the truth was that often those human relationships were superficial, and in the circle of the most true and intimate friendships there were very few people. It was a life always lived with a certain spirit of vigilance, because often the people who revolved around that world had ulterior motives behind an apparent friendship: they were looking for fame for themselves and didn’t hesitate to exploit that of the actors to reach it.

Even for Boris it was like that: over the years he had shielded himself behind an invisible barrier; he often joked that he had more than ten thousand friends, but in the small circle of his private life the people to whom he had opened his heart were counted on the fingers of one hand.

Yet Valery, with his frankness and naivety, had breached that barrier as if it didn't even exist.

He opened his eyes to look at him: the professor was already sleeping blissfully, his reddish eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheeks.

Boris touched the tip of his round nose with his lips.

_ "You don't even know how special you are, Valera." _

Bosi woke up early the next morning, while Valery was still asleep, and got up, to take a look at the apartment of which he had only had a fleeting vision the night before (well, they had better things to do).

Valery's apartment was... indescribable, for someone like him, minimalist and methodical like a military man.

It almost looked like the warehouse of a movie set, where all sorts of props had been stored: apart from the precarious stacks of books placed everywhere, there were models of molecules, empty tins of biscuits, knick-knacks, dusty doilies, boxes overflowing with receipts and pieces of papers, mismatched teapots and cups, and even an old samovar on top of a cupboard. Valery was one step away from being a serial hoarder.

A surprising touch, however, were the countless plants that decorated the house: they were in the living room, in the kitchen, in the guest room, in the bedroom, and Boris had seen a couple of them even in the bathroom, above the medicine cabinet. One might have thought that, given the neglected state of the apartment, the plants were dry and withered, instead they were all in good health.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Valery, returning home in the evening and, as first thing, checking if the plants had enough water; perhaps he was also talking to them, while removing the dry leaves and adding a pinch of tea grounds in the potting soil of the less healthy ones.

He sat down on the sofa, moving some books on the table. As a reader, Valery was omnivorous; Boris expected to find only textbooks and scientific journals, instead there were many novels and collections of poems. A library shelf was full of VHS, almost all of his films, he noted with a smile.

One thing was certain: that apartment told of a quiet but lonely life, not unlike his. Maybe one of the reasons that brought them closer?

"Borja?" Valery moaned, opening his eyes, but he was alone in the bed.

He sighed as he put on his dressing gown: had he already gone? He would have liked to have breakfast with him and finally spend some time together, as they did in Voronež, but he knew that the actor was a very busy man, he couldn’t pretend to monopolize his days just because now the two of them...

He stopped in the living room door because Boris was sitting on the sofa, leafing through one of his books. He was wearing only the boxers and the tank top and Valery could only think that he was incredibly beautiful.

"Ah, you're here..."

Boris had stayed.

"Good morning Valera."

Valery seemed to realize only at that moment that the room was a frightening chaos for those who weren’t used to it, and hurried to mutter an apology, take some paperwork and put them on a broken chair in the corner.

The look of the living room didn’t improve at all, unfortunately.

"You weren't joking when you said you were messy."

"Yes, here... maybe I can..." The professor looked around to understand how to fix the chaos, but didn’t know where to start.

Boris raised a hand to reassure him: "Don't worry, I was joking."

"Well no, it's not good: my colleagues also often point out to me that the state of this apartment is impossible."

"So why don't you fix it?"

Valery slumped on the armrest of the sofa: “As I said to you when we were in Voronež, in the end I don't care much about these knick-knacks: I should waste a lot of time and mental energy to decide what to keep and what to throw away. The only idea is tiring and I can dedicate that time to more useful and profitable things."

"Like science?"

"Precisely. But I imagine that for a tidy man like you, my apartment is disconcerting."

Boris pursed his lips to suppress an amused smile: "It is, but do you know what's the funniest thing?"

Valery shook his head.

“I have few stuff in my house for the same reason: I don't care about them, I consider them useless. I am often out of Moscow because of my job, they would just stay and collect dust in a empty apartment."

"Same problem, different approaches."

“To be honest I like your apartment, Valera, I mean it: it's comfortable and you can see it's lived. Mine looks more like the ones you see on decor magazines, it seems almost fake. And anyway, you take care of the important things," said Boris, touching the plant on the table in front of him.

"Plants are living beings, of course I take care of them," Valery replied, reaching out to touch the plant in turn, "But I envy your tidy apartment a little: I bet you never have to go crazy to find the things you’re searching for."

"Different but complementary approaches, then?"

Valery smiled, "So it would seem."

_ "We complement each other, you and me." _

Boris stretched out his arm and in a moment Valery found himself sitting on his knees.

"Boris, what...?"

He was interrupted by a long, sensual kiss, while Boris's hand slipped nimbly under the professor's dressing gown, groping him shamelessly.

With some awkward maneuver, Valery found himself astride Boris, naked, under his incandescent gaze.

Boris kissed him on the neck and felt Valery's rapid pulse under the tip of his tongue, then whispered in his ear: "I noticed that you have many videotapes of my works."

"You already know I'm your fan."

Boris chuckled, a low, erotic sound that shook Valery deeply.

"I see you have  _ that  _ movie too."

Valery blushed instantly and Boris thought that yes, perhaps he had a little obsession with his blush, or rather, to be the cause of it. He slid his hands down his lover's back to his large, plump buttocks, which he voluptuously squeezed.

"Do you know the scene that is near the end of the film?"

"Hm..." Oh yes, Valery knew it all too well, since they were now in the same position.

Boris smiled on his skin: "Would you be interested in a rehearsal?"

Valery sinked his hands into Boris's gray hair, slightly annoyed that the actor was still joking, while Valery was burning with the desire to have him inside himself again. He pounced on his lips, determined to erase that smug smile and replace it with cries of ecstasy.

Valery's plan was successful, but it left him completely exhausted.

Boris offered him to get a shower, but Valery was too tired just to think about getting up, so he lay dozing on the sofa, barely covered by his dressing gown.

In the background, he heard Boris moving in the kitchen and opening the cupboards in search of tea, while talking to himself in a low voice.

It was an intimate, cozy scene, and Valery felt a wonderful warmth radiate in his chest: he understood that he didn't want anything else in life, only that Boris was there with him.

It was the only important thing, like his plants, everything else didn't matter.

He felt that he was sliding into sleep again, but he had to tell Boris.

"Hey Boris," he called out in a sleepy voice.

He heard the actor's footsteps stop beside the sofa and his warm hand in his hair.

"What's up?"

"You're my favorite plant," he murmured, before closing his eyes again.

He didn't see Boris' smile widen dramatically, he didn't see a tear dance on his eyelashes, he didn't feel the devoted kiss on the forehead, and didn’t hear the "I love you" whispered in his hair.

Boris had no commitments that day and had no intention of leaving Valery's apartment, not after what he had told him.

Later, the professor woke up, Boris cooked a quick lunch with what was in the fridge, then went back to what had become his favorite activity: kissing Valery sitting on the sofa.

When the doorbell rang, Valery frowned: he was not waiting for anyone.

"It's Ulana," explained Boris, "Yesterday, before coming to the university, I asked her to come here this afternoon: there are some things we need to talk about."

"Right, I know."

Charkov and the terms of the contract. Unpleasant topic, after such a pleasant night and morning, but it had to be addressed. Although Valery had no idea how they could solve the problem.

He went to open the door, regretting not wearing a turtleneck sweater that would have hidden the marks that Boris had left on his body.

But it was useless: it didn't take a genius to understand that he and Boris had had sex, and Ulana had certainly already guessed it.

The agent sat down in a chair without waiting for an invitation and opened the briefcase.

Boris nodded to Valery, who returned to sit on the sofa next to him, and didn’t even blush excessively when the actor's arm surrounded his shoulders.

"Gentlemen, I studied the contract that Valery signed and perhaps I found a solution to avoid trouble with the law firm because of the morality clause, but..."

"What?" Boris asked sharply.

"I'm not sure you will like my solution."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Like Jared, for example, who sported both a fantastic red suit and several shirts with floral motifs.
> 
> [2] Literally: unsolicited excuse, explicit accusation. When someone starts making excuses without anyone asking him anything, he is implicitly accusing himself of something.


	11. Scene 4 - Take 2

Feeling a little stupid, Valery raised his hand shyly and Ulana looked at him.

"Yes?"

“Did you study my contract? Why? You are Boris' agent."

"From this point on, it’s better to be frank," she said pragmatically, "you are Boris' lover now, so you are part of my job. Because now you are lovers, aren't you?"

Valery wished the ground would swallow him, but nodded slowly.

"Ulana, don't embarrass him," Boris grumbled, pulling Valery closer to him: only he had the right to make his scientist blush.

“I'm sorry, but he has to get used to it. This is nothing compared to what will happen if your relationship is discovered. And in that case the morality clause of his contract is adamantine: Valery would have no hope of winning the lawsuit that Charkov will gladly bring on."

Boris said again in clear and unrepeatable terms what he thought of Charkov, while Valery felt his stomach squirm with anxiety, but he strengthened himself.

He had to face and solve that problem, because the alternative was to give up loving Boris, and this his heart and soul couldn’t accept it, not after last night.

"Ulana is right," he said, adjusting his glasses on his nose, and lifted his chin resolutely.

"From your face I understand that Charkov has threatened you," the agent speculated.

"Nothing so explicit, but he talked to me and showed me some pictures, taken one evening that..." he stopped and looked at Boris sideways, "You know, when I got drunk."

"Pictures? What pictures? Who took them?" Ulana asked with an alarmed look.

"Not a paparazzo," Legasov reassured her, "It was an assistant of Charkov, to make me understand what could happen if..."

"This is too much!" Boris suddenly shouted in a powerful voice.

Valery had never seen him so angry and started, surprised by his reaction. Was this the same man who calmed down the people on the set when someone was about to fight?

"I'll kill him!" Boris went on; finding nothing else to vent his fury, he rolled up a magazine and slammed it against the edge of the table.

"Boris, stop it," Ulana sighed.

"No! This is illegal, Charkov has no right to follow me around, I could report him."

His agent shook her head, “He would deny, and it would be his word against Valery's. Or he would say that he did it to safeguard the interests of the bakers. We can't help it," she said, then turned back to Valery, "Did he say or do anything else? Have you seen him since that day? "

"No, no."

"Very well, so he was sure you would obey him."

It was true, Valery had obeyed Charkov and would have continued to do so, closing more and more in his melancholy and longing for Boris, if it hadn’t been for the actor's act of bravery. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened, if Boris hadn't come to the university to talk with him.

Valery would have been forever grateful to Boris for reaching out to him.

"The problem with Valery's contract, however, remains," Ulana continued, returning the attention to the heart of the matter, after noticing that Valery had gotten lost looking at Boris.

"Why do you only refer to my contract when you talk about the morality clause?" the scientist asked, "Isn't it on Boris' one too?"

"No," the actor chimed in, "I never sign it."

"I thought it was included in all contracts."

"Yes, usually it’s mandatory, but I don't want any kind of limitation to my artistic and personal freedom: I prefer to take a lower fee or give up a job, rather than to sign it." [1]

"So I could have avoided it too?" Valery asked. That would have spared the trouble they faced now, even if he couldn't predict that he would fall in love with Boris.

"It's not that simple," Ulana explained, "Boris is a name of some importance, there are producers and directors who absolutely want him, and this gives him a certain degree of freedom in the negotiation. If you had refused, they would have simply asked another scientist to take up the task."

"I see."

Even though he was facing a big problem now, it was worth it, he thought, looking at Boris with a smile.

"You said you found a way out, Ulana," Boris said.

"Yes: there is another clause in Valery's contract, fortunately very unspecific, the rescissory one. It often happens that a production makes use of external consultants, but that afterwards conflicts arise, therefore this clause allows to terminate the contracts with a certain ease." [2]

"But this isn’t the case with Valery: his criticisms have been appreciated and almost all accepted in the script."

Ulana made a face, "I know, but it's the only way out I've found. If Valery gives up being mentioned as a consultant for the miniseries along with his fee, the contract is terminated and consequently the morality clause cannot be applied. The contribution he made will become... anonymous, it will simply be part of the creative process."

"Not a chance!" Boris growled.

Ulana rolled her eyes, "I knew you would have reacted like this."

"Of course I react like this!" the actor roared, "Valery's review and suggestions were fundamental to the plot, he worked as hard as we did, it’s also thanks to him if the story is so beautiful, and now you are telling me that what he did shouldn’t be acknowledged and paid? That he should remove himself from the project, as if he had never worked with us, and let someone else receive credits for the work he has done? It’s ridiculous!"

"If you have other ideas I'm ready to listen to them," the agent said, spreading her arms.

“Couldn't we just pretend that nothing happened? We certainly have no intention of making a public statement that we are together, or having sex in a park, maybe paparazzi will never find out about us."

Ulana crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head, “And you want to make Valery live for years with this sword of Damocles hanging over his head? If he remains tied to the contract, Charkov could activate that clause even after the airing of the miniseries."

"Fuck!" the actor snapped.

Valery pursed his lips: on one hand Boris was right, he had worked hard for the production, putting aside university lessons, experiments, publications, a part of his life. Following the filming had been fantastic, but also a challenging commitment: having his work acknowledged was the bare minimum.

And perhaps he was more vain than he thought, because he discovered that he cared to see his name when the end credits rolled.

But Ulana had been very clear: it would have dragged him into a lawsuit, and he had no hopes against an experienced lawyer like Charkov.

Also, seeing the vehemence with which Boris was reacting, Valery had no doubts that he would expose himself for Valery in the lawsuit. Thus, even if there was no morality clause in the actor's contract, his career could be damaged anyway.

In the end it was a matter of choosing what was most important to him and reaching out to Boris, as the actor had done with Valery.

In the end it wasn’t a difficult decision.

In the meantime, Boris and Ulana had gone on to argue loudly, until the agent pointed at Valery.

“Instead of screaming, why don't you ask Valery what he wants to do? The decision is up to him."

Her green eyes and Boris' gray ones stared at him, and Valery flattened against the back of the sofa, intimidated.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times and then said in one breath, "Iloveyou!" looking at Boris.

The actor gaped at him, blinking slowly, and Ulana hid her eyes behind her hand.

"Okay, time out. I need the bathroom," said the woman, and left them alone, but Valery didn't miss her amused gaze.

Boris was still looking at him without saying a word, and Valery nervously ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't... I mean yes, of course I love you," he pointed out with a small smile, "but I didn't have to say it now, and definitely not like that. I just wanted to say that you are the most important thing to me, and therefore I want to do what is best for... us. I will ask the production to terminate my contract."

Boris put his hand on his knee and squeezed: he still didn't want to give up, but he didn't see any other way.

"It's not fair, dammit!"

"No, but the alternative would be infinitely worse. It's all right,” Valery said, hoping to hide the disappointment well enough.

Boris' other hand stroked his cheek, "You are wonderful, you know?"

"It's not true, I'm clumsy and awkward, and I just made the worst love declaration in the history of love declarations."

"You did," Boris laughed, "But it doesn't matter, because I love you too."

He grabbed him by the neck and kissed him, forcing him to open his mouth with his tongue, and Valery clung to his shirt, but a dry cough behind them interrupted the moment.

"I gave you time to talk, not to make out like two horny teenagers," Ulana said as she sat down again.

Boris was incredibly annoyed at being interrupted, while Valery was glowing despite the embarrassment. He was truly transparent in his reactions and Ulana didn’t struggle to understand why Boris had fallen in love with him.

"I decided, I’ll terminate the contract," Valery said, "What should I do?"

"If you trust me, you can delegate everything to me: I'll take care of talking to Sitnikov."

Relying on an experienced agent like Khomyuk made him feel more relaxed, but he felt like he was taking advantage of her.

"It would be better, but..."

"As I said, from now on you are part of Boris' life and therefore also part of my job."

"Well, thank you. What will you tell Sitnikov?"

“I will be vague, mentioning that it’s inconvenient for you that your name is associated with an entertainment product, and that it’s not appropriate from a deontological point of view.”

Valery frowned, "But it's not true."

"Deontology is something interpretable, and I will say that you interpret it very rigorously."

"And will it be enough?"

“You aren’t an actor or the musician who created the soundtrack. Your contribution was fundamental, but invisible, and you leave it to the production, which will also save the money of your fee. Yes, it will be enough."

“But shouldn't we offer a justification? Explain that..."

As the words came out of his mouth, Valery realized how stupid they were: to explain was like to confess openly that he had violated the morality clause of the contract.

It was good that Ulana would take care of everything, he would have made a mess.

"Is it good for you?" Ulana asked Boris, and the actor made a frightening grimace: he was still furious at the injustice suffered by Valery.

"Why do you ask me, if there is no other way?" he barked.

"Watch out: you’re scaring your lover."

If possible, Boris' face became even darker.

Ulana made Valery sign a power of attorney, then collected the documents and got up.

The professor walked her to the door and chivalrously helped her put on her overcoat.

"I'm sorry for all the problems I've created," he whispered.

"If there weren't some problems occasionally, life would be very boring."

"Boris is so angry..." Legasov sighed, biting his lips. It distressed him to see Boris like this.

"Not with you, Valery," Ulana cheered him up, "He is furious with Charkov and the whole situation, but not with you."

"I know, but I'm not used to seeing him like this: usually he's so calm!"

Ulana smiled, “He is, isn't he? The only other time I saw him so angry, we were at a party. One of the guests was so drunk that he grabbed me by the wrist and tried to drag me to a secluded place."

"My God!"

“Boris saw the scene and came to rescue me. He lifted him up, knocking him to the ground, then broke his arm. He never gets angry, except for the people he really cares about."

"Oh... I see."

Ulana patted him on the shoulder.

"Anyway, I'm sure you'll find a way to make him smile again," she said, then took pity on him, decided not to embarrass the poor professor further and left them alone.

Boris was standing in front of the kitchen window with his hands on his hips; Valery laid a hand on his back, still stiff with anger.

"Boris..."

"I still want to unscrew Charkov's head and kick it."

"Come on, calm down..." Valery murmured, moving his hand in a slow caress.

"You should be furious, why aren't you angry?"

"I love you," Valery said again, without thinking about it: those three words seemed to have become the answer to everything.

Boris' gaze softened; he grabbed Valery by the waist and kissed his forehead.

"What I mean is that I prefer to focus on what makes me happy: you," Valery leaned his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing with contentment when Boris' hand stroked the back of his neck. "I met you, we fell in love, we can be together without worrying about that stupid clause, in the end it didn't go badly," the scientist continued.

Boris let out a small grunt, not yet fully persuaded.

"No, I mean it, really: it went well," Valery put his nose on Boris’ neck, inhaling his scent, "Do you remember when I told you about Julia?"

“The girl you broke up with? Yes."

“She broke up with me, to tell the truth, and when she did, she pointed out that the whole time we had been together I had never told her that I loved her. It was never natural for me to do it, as it happens now with you," he stood on tiptoe and stole a quick kiss, "I always thought that I would never be able to tell those words to anyone, because of mine..."

"Preferences?" Boris suggested.

"Yes," Valery closed his eyes and clung tightly to Boris’ back, "All my life I've been so scared that someone understood who I was, I've always avoided opening up with someone. Boris, you are the first one who…” he stopped, looking him in the eye: he didn't have the words to tell him how much he loved him.

"Valera..." Boris murmured, stroking his cheek gently, "You are  _ that  _ person for me too."

The professor tilted his head slightly, without understanding, and Boris smiled: "That person told in a countless number of films and books, the right person, the one you are looking for all your life. The one."

Valery squeezed Boris' hand in his and nodded.

"Yes, I want to be that person."

"I love you," Boris whispered, and his lips landed on Valery’s, first very sweet, then more and more bold and impatient, while the actor pushed Valery and when they hit the table, he lifted him on it.

"Here?" Valery asked, widening his eyes. The idea was incredibly arousing.

Boris quickly got rid of his shirt: "It's one of the few horizontal clear surfaces in your apartment, let me take advantage of it."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


NOTE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Stellan talks about this in an interview. In the contracts with Disney there is for real this clause, precisely in the terms expressed in this story, and normally the actors must sign it, but he has always refused to do so, considering it an attack on his constitutional right of freedom of expression.
> 
> [2] Many dictionaries tell me that "rescissory" is not a common term in English, if not in legal English. Anyway, a rescissory clause is a clause that allows the termination of a contract for various reasons.


	12. Scene 4 - Take 3

Boris had no commitments in the following two days, and Valery canceled his own, asking to be replaced by an assistant: the time they had together wasn’t long and he wanted to exploit it until the last moment.

The only time Valery left his apartment was to go shopping: Boris had asked for food that had some actual nutritional value, then he took possession of the small kitchen to prepare lunch and dinner.

Valery had never worried too much about what he ate, to him food was just something that had to fill his stomach when he felt hungry, even though he knew that his habits weren’t healthy.

So he was very surprised when Boris told him that he was almost constantly on a diet, or at least careful about what he ate.

"It's a remarkable sacrifice," said Valery, who considered it acceptable to eat a box of biscuits for dinner, "I never thought of that."

Boris stirred the vegetables in the pan.

“An actor's life is full of impositions coming from someone else: gaining weight or losing it for a role, the clothes to wear during premieres and press conferences, even the parties to attend. That's why I hate intrusions into my private life."

"You want something that you can fully control."

"Exactly," Boris said, bringing the dishes to the table.

Valery could understand it: Boris was famous for being always elegant and perfectly dressed, that was the image he gave to the world, with which he was known and loved by the fans, but in those months Valery had seen the real Boris, the man hidden behind the actor, and he was a man who, far from the cameras and the flashes of photographers, loved to relax and be comfortable.

For example, there in his apartment, Valery had borrowed him an old sweatshirt and pants, and although they were comically short for him, Boris was perfectly at ease and seemed happy.

The scientist put a hand on his, "Well, when you are with me, you can do anything you want."

"Uh, I'll keep that in mind," he replied, winking at him, and Valery blushed.

"No, you misunderstood!"

"Really?" he joked, "We don't have to rehearse the scenes of  _ that  _ movie anymore?"

"I didn't say that!" he protested, "I..."

Boris took Valery’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, "Don't worry, I understand."

Valery told himself that if the price to pay for seeing Boris so spontaneous and playful was some harmless mockery, it was a price he was willing to pay.

After dinner, Valery proposed to Boris to watch one of his movies, but the actor proved oddly reticent. [1]

"Why?" Valery wanted to know.

Boris shrugged: there was no rational reason, but he had always found it embarrassing, almost unbearable, to see himself on the screen again after filming. No, he acted and let the audience watch him.

"How can I explain... do you ever re-read the articles you publish in scientific journals?"

“I don't need to, I remember what I wrote. But if I have to publish an update, of course I'm going to re-read them."

Boris chuckled: he had forgotten how Valery transformed when science was involved, and how confident he was.

"Wait," Valery went on, "do you mean you are embarrassed to watch your movies?"

"A bit."

"It’s fantastic."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Finally I also found something that makes you blush," Valery said, climbing astride him.

Neither that evening nor the next one they watched television.

However on the third day Boris had to go home, his commitments demanded him back.

Valery watched him dress in silence; he didn't want to be clingy, but deep inside, he wanted to beg him to stay a little longer: those few days together had been something magical and made him fall in love with Boris even more.

They stayed up late talking in bed, naked, made love until they were exhausted, cooked together (well, mostly Boris cooked and Valery passed him the ingredients), listened to the radio on the sofa, Valery seated and Boris lying with his head resting on Valery’s thighs.

Valery had even tidied up the apartment, making it more livable.

They had been well together, and from Valery's point of view it was almost a miracle for two men of their age, fossilized in habits and in a certain lifestyle.

He didn't want to let Boris out of that door, even though he knew he was terribly selfish.

"Where will you go?"

“In Leningrad for a couple of days: I have the audition for a new movie. Then there will be a short promotional tour for  _ Infinite Impact _ around the country: we will show the trailer and have a Q&A time with the audience." [2]

Boris' face was extremely serious and Valery put a hand on his chest.

"You don't seem happy, yet you like meeting the fans."

"You should have been there at those conventions, too."

Valery sighed: Boris was still struggling to accept his decision and let go of the anger.

"Borja, I already told you it's okay."

"Not at all! This is a solution, but it’s not okay. You should be there with me, you could have answered questions about the reactors and nuclear energy, don’t tell me you don’t want to, because I don't believe you."

Of course Valery has some regrets: spreading science to a wider audience than his university students would have been a dream for the scientist, who wanted as many people as possible to become passionate about science.

But that was the only way to be able to love Boris freely, without consequences and without the fear of a lawsuit hanging upon them.

"I love you," he said again, because it was the only thing that mattered in the end.

Boris' lips landed on his forehead.

"I love you too."

Then Boris was ready to go out, and Valery began to really feel the anxiety of the separation. Even the actor, usually cheerful and talkative, had become taciturn.

"This time I'll get the phone repaired, I promise, so you can call me."

Boris gave him a slight smile, "Good."

At the last moment Valery fished a bunch of keys from a bowl near the entrance door and placed them firmly in the actor's hand.

"Nobody has the keys of my apartment, I have many copies just because I keep losing them, you are the first one who... Whenever you want..." he stammered and squeezed Boris' hand tightly, regretting not being eloquent enough to say,  _ "You can come here whenever you want, my home is your home now, and here you can be yourself, simply Boris.” _

In an instant Valery found himself against the wall, wrapped in the actor's embrace, persistently kissed by his thin lips.

"I love you Valera, I love you so much."

Sitnikov listened to Ulana's words and spread his arms in perplexity.

“I don't understand: Professor Legasov has done a lot for us, both Pikalov and the cast have been enthusiastic about his contribution. I feel like I’m doing him a wrong to terminate the contract without even paying him."

"The film studio will save some money. Not a lot, given that the professor had accepted a minimum fee," added the woman, eyeing Charkov, sitting silently on the other side of the table, "but the bakers will be happy."

"Can I know why?"

"Anatoly... Tolya, let's just say it's a deontological matter, and let's close it here, without grudge. Professor Legasov gives you for free the work he has done, and in return he’s released from any contractual obligation."

Out of the corner of the eye, Ulana saw Charkov clenching the pen firmly: unfortunately for him, he could offer Sitnikov legal advice, but the final decision was in the hands of the producer, and there was no logical or legal reason to decline Legasov's request.

The producer shrugged and signed the contract termination: “Okay. I would say that's all, then."

"In fact, the problem isn’t solved, Comrade Sitnikov," Charkov said, "Since this is an informal meeting and nothing that is said here will leak out, I inform you that the mysterious deontological matter that Comrade Khomyuk is so reticent to talk about concerns the morality clause of the contract, therefore it not only involves Professor Legasov, but also Boris Shcherbina."

Sitnikov frowned, assimilating the information, while Charkov turned to Ulana: “Don't let your client be fooled: just because he has been the main character of the series, and he is famous and pampered by the film studios, he isn’t in a privileged position: my firm is ready to sue him, if it deems it necessary."

Ulana was surprised by those words, then understood, and didn’t hide a smile, “I deduce that your firm drafted the contracts for the actors, but didn’t check them when they came back signed, thinking that they were unchanged. And I also deduce that it’s the first time that your firm has to deal with Boris Shcherbina."

"What does that mean?"

"The contract I received included the morality clause, yes, but I had it removed before Comrade Shcherbina signed it. He never accepts it, didn't you know?"

Charkov turned to Sitnikov, stunned and furious, "And you accepted?"

"Yes," the producer replied quietly.

"You didn't have the right!"

The man laughed under his thick mustache, "As a producer, I had all the rights: Comrade Shcherbina accepted a very reasonable fee, he could have asked for more and he didn't, it was a great advantage for us."

"Yes, but that clause..."

"Personally I think that clause is absurd, I had no problem removing it," Sitnikov interrupted him.

"That clause protects the morality of the film studio and consequently also the external financing: no respectable baker would agree to give money to a company where immoral people work or scandals happen," Charkov insisted.

Sitnikov rolled his eyes, "Oh, please! That clause has nothing to do with acting, it exists only to keep the actors on a leash under the threat of legal repercussions, and everyone hates it! It’s so vague and broad that even going to work for a different film studio could be seen as 'offensive' at some point, and no actor wants to get involved in a lawsuit for this."

"These are not the reasons why the clause would be activated, the actors know it well."

“Whether they are political positions, statements on social issues, or personal relationships, I don't care! I don't want the creativity of those who work with us to be castrated by the obsession with censorship."

Ulana hadn’t intruded in the tense confrontation between the two men: the attention had shifted from Boris and Valery to a more general discourse on artistic freedom, and she was more than happy with it.

Eventually Charkov spread his arms, "The damage is done now, but don’t complain with me if a scandal should break out, and for this reason the audience will boycott the series."

Ulana let the lawyer out, then leaned over to Sitnikov, "I’m extremely sorry, Tolya, it wasn’t my intention to raise such a fuss."

Mosfilm was one of the largest film studios in the Soviet Union, and the agent was keen to maintain good relations with the producer, so that Boris would be called back to work with them.

“Oh, don't even mention it: it was a long time that I had this on the tip of my tongue, it was inevitable that we would argue sooner or later. The support of a law firm is important in a job like ours, but I don't want Charkov's oppressive attitude to suffocate the talent of the actors or to affect their private life. I only care that they give their best when they’re on set, it's not my business what they do out of here."

It was the only hint that Sitnikov made to Charkov's insinuations, and Ulana thanked him with a nod, then left.

She was almost at the front door, when a low, monotonous voice made her jump.

"Do you think you won?"

Charkov was leaning against a column in the shadows.

Ulana squeezed the shoulder strap of her purse and calmed herself, "I don't think we were doing a race."

"The solution you found is ingenious, I admit it, but I wonder if it will be enough."

"I’m very confident," Ulana said, trying to control the trembling in her voice, then she went out: geez, that man gave her chills.

Ulana realized that the matter for Charkov went beyond a simple contractual clause: he wasn’t only concerned about the interests of his clients, he was pursuing a personal crusade against Boris and Valery's relationship.

However she didn’t worry, because she knew he had no foothold: he couldn’t attack them with the morality clause, because Boris hadn’t signed it and Valery's contract had just been terminated. He could have given the photos of Boris and Valery taken by his assistant to some magazine, but by doing that he would also damage the good repute of the film studio and the miniseries itself, exactly what he wanted to avoid.

Charkov watched the door close, then a mocking smile raised his lips: to damage someone it wasn’t necessary to expose him to the public judgement, it was enough that the voice reached a few, selected ears.

“You have won this battle, but the war? That's to be seen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It seems strange, but there are many actors who, out of a sort of modesty or shame, or because they are extremely critical of themselves, refuse to watch the movies where they have acted. Yes, Stellan is one of them.
> 
> [2] Question and answer time: during a convention, it’s the moment when fans have the opportunity to ask the actors and the showrunners questions.


	13. Scene 4 - Take 4

For some time everything was fine.

Valery and Boris missed each other, but the professor had really the phone fixed and they often phones each other.

When Boris met the fans at the conventions, he was still upset about the injustice that Valery had had to suffer, but the idea of being with him partially mitigated the bitterness.

The actor was back to his old self, happily answered questions from fans and stopped to sign autographs for hours after everyone else had left.

Garo and Sitnikov to represent the film studio, Bryukhanov, Dyatlov, Akimov and Zinchenko were also with him on that small promotional tour.

One evening, while in Riga, the group strolled through the streets of the city after dinner. Sitnikov and Garo talked about their next project, Bryukhanov, Dyatlov and Akimov, slightly tipsy, stayed behind and laughed out loud, while Boris and Svetlana walked ahead of everyone, a little far away.

"You look better," the actress said.

Boris shrugged, "I've never been sick."

"Well, the last time we met you weren’t in a great shape."

"It was because of a misunderstanding, but now it's all fixed."

"And is Professor Legasov okay?" she asked with a sly smile, bringing her hands behind her back.

Boris smiled indulgently, as a father would have done towards a very curious daughter.

"Why do you think I’m still in contact with him?"

"Oh come on! Professor Legasov was really transparent, he had heart shaped eyes when he looked at you. You hid it better, but not enough."

"And I thought I was a good actor."

The girl laughed, "You are, but I have female intuition on my side."

"Ah, then I never had any hopes of hiding anything from you," Boris joked.

"Nope."

"Valery is fine," Boris said after a short pause.

"Great. Say hi to him from me."

"I will do it. And... thanks, Sveta."

The actress shrugged, "For what? For being a decent person who is happy for a friend? You have no reason to thank me. It should be normal, in my opinion."

"It should," Boris agreed, "but unfortunately it isn't. However Valery taught me something about it."

"What is it?"

"To be happy with what we have."

The promotional tour ended a few days before the first episode of  _ Infinite Impact _ aired. The trailer had been greeted with enthusiasm by the audience and the journalists, and the expectations were high.

On the last day of the tour, Boris called Valery to let him know that he would return to Moscow the next day, around dinner time, and would come to his apartment.

The scientist worked to the best of his ability to make him find a good dinner.

He had observed Boris cooking when he was there: the actor had used very simple, almost frugal ingredients, typical of the Ukrainian tradition, and Valery didn’t think it was such a complicated task: after all, in his job, he constantly handled radioactive substances, preparing a soup should be easy in comparison.

However, he realized that peeling, cleaning and cutting vegetables took longer than he thought, and he was immediately late on his schedule; in addition, while the vegetables were boiling in the pot, he saw that they didn’t have an inviting colour and even the smell in the kitchen was very far from the appetizing scent of when Boris had cooked.

_ How was that possible?  _ he thought, frowning. Maybe he hadn't paid due attention to the preparation of the dishes, but only to Boris.

He was pondering whether to throw everything in the bin and go get something from the neighborhood restaurant when he heard the keys in the lock.

He looked at his watch: it wasn’t yet evening and dinner wasn’t ready.

He turned off the stove and looked out the kitchen door: it was Boris. He had placed the suitcase on the ground and was taking off his coat.

"Hey..." Boris greeted him with a smile.

"You're early!" Valery blurted, then closed his eyes and cursed himself: he had developed the appalling ability to always tell him the wrong thing! Instead of throwing his arms around Boris’ neck and telling him that he had missed him terribly, he seemed to be scolding him for arriving too early.

"It's not what I meant... it's just that... dinner isn't..."

Boris looked at him: Valery wore an old apron that had known better days and that in any case hadn’t prevented his trousers, shirt and even his face from getting stained, had his glasses cloudy by the steam of the hot water, and was holding a large wooden spoon that was dripping on the old floor.

He was funny, almost ridiculous, and Boris had never loved him as much as in that moment: he was his imperfect, clumsy, unique Valera, and he had missed him so much that his breath was cut off.

He walked up to him in two steps, took his face in his hands and kissed him, putting an end to his confused babble. He kissed him with love and sweetness, with passion and possessiveness; he kissed him like he had never kissed anyone.

Valery didn’t resist him, yielding under Boris' hands and mouth, almost stunned by his impetuosity. He could only rest his hands on his chest and tilt his head to accommodate his movements.

Then suddenly Boris was on his knees in front of him, pushed aside the apron and unbuttoned his trousers.

Valery couldn't believe his eyes: Boris wanted... he was going to...

"So you don't want to have dinner?" he asked stupidly.

Boris smiled, kissing his belly.

"In a sense. I had the appetizer and now I want the main course."

The next morning Boris woke up with stomach cramps from hunger: the night had been unforgettable, but perhaps Valery's idea of dining wasn’t entirely wrong.

He kissed his lover's bare shoulder until he felt him take a deeper breath and wake up.

"Breakfast?" he suggested.

"We could go to the bar," Valery suggested, his head still buried in the pillow.

"I don't really want to get dressed."

"I think you will have less desire to see the state of the kitchen," mumbled Valery, who wasn’t getting up.

"You are exaggerating!" Boris exclaimed. He kissed him one last time between his shoulder blades and got up.

In the kitchen, however, he realized that Valery hadn’t exaggerated at all: he had used all the knives he had, five bowls and seven... eight... nine pans and pots to prepare a simple soup, and yet he had managed to burn some vegetables. But every tool used was shouting that Valery had put all his efforts into it, so Boris sat at the table with his face resting on his hands to contemplate that little disaster, and in the end he just smiled.

The tenderness that that sincere attempt inspired was much stronger than the desire to clean and tidy up: it had to be true love.

Valery found him like that when he got up: looking at the chaos with a slight smile.

"I told you it was better to go out for breakfast."

"No, it's perfect," Boris said. He spread his arm, inviting Valery to join him, and made him sit on his legs, "It's really perfect."

They cleaned together and ate breakfast by mid-morning.

"Do you have other commitments in the next few days?" Valery asked.

Boris put the cup of tea on the saucer.

"No, but the filming of my next movie, the one directed by Nikolai Tarakanov, will begin later this month and we will start with the external shooting, as it was for  _ Infinite Impact _ ."

He was telling him that he was going to be away for a long time, something Valery had thought a lot about: Boris had warned him that the distance would be a problem, and certainly Valery didn’t like the idea of not seeing him for months, but he loved him, he wanted to be with him, so he said himself that he would face and overcome every obstacle.

He wouldn't give up, Boris was too important to him.

"Where will you go?"

"In Kazakhstan, we will shoot many scenes in the desert." [1]

"You'll come back with an enviable tan, then," the professor joked.

Boris reached out on the table to grab his hand. He hadn't told Valery about it, but he had a fucking fear of losing him because of the distance, as had happened with his two failed marriages.

"Valera..."

"It's all right, Borja," Valery reassured him in a firm and confident voice, "It won't be a problem, I promise. And then we can phone each other."

"Every evening," he replied, bringing Valery’s hand to his mouth to kiss it.

"And then we have almost three weeks to spend together before you leave."

"True. Maybe by then you will grow tired of me."

"This is impossible. I love you, remember?"

"I love you too."

As much as Valery's small and chaotic apartment fascinated the actor, it was inconvenient for Boris to stay there, because he was far from his neighborhood, where there were the gym and the swimming pool where he went to keep himself fit.

Furthermore, Ulana delivered the letters of the fans to which Boris loved to reply to the actor’s apartment, so Boris gave Valery his keys.

"Come when you want, even if I'm not there."

"Won't I disrupt your routine?"

"No," Boris reassured him, "You didn't do it when we were in Voronež, and we were confined in a small trailer, you certainly won't do it by staying at my apartment."

Valery's presence in his life had been natural from the start, but it was discreet, never invasive or overwhelming, as if that was simply where he belonged.

“But maybe it will be inconvenient to you? It's not close to the university."

"Don't worry," said Valery, "The exams are over, and for a while I won't have lessons, I'll do some research, and the laboratory is closer to your apartment."

They hadn't decided to live together, it was too early for that step, on the eve of Boris' new movie, but they tried to see each other as much as possible.

One evening Boris returned home and found Valery sitting on the sofa, focused on the reading of a scientific journal. When he was there, the scientist tried to contain his untidiness as much as possible, but he had thrown his shoes haphazardly under the table; on the said table there was a plate and an empty glass, scattered notes and a pencil, while the eraser had fallen to the floor.

Valery was a patch of bright colour in the tidiness of his life, and this time it was Boris who, looking at him, couldn’t say anything else than "I love you," before reaching Valery on the sofa and making love to him.

Before Boris left for Kazakhstan, they had time to watch all the three episodes of  _ Infinite Impact _ . 

Or rather, Valery watched them with trepidation in the living room, while Boris stayed in the bedroom reading a book. As much as he loved his scientist, he wouldn't have convinced him to look at himself on the screen.

Not that it was necessary, however: at the end of each episode Valery ran to the bedroom to give him a very thrilled and detailed account, telling him how unforgettable his interpretation of Ruslan was, how engaging the soundtrack was, and feeling sorry for the scenes he had seen filmed but had been cut.

"They cut out so many scenes!" he complained after watching the last episode, while stroking Boris’ face, "It's a shame."

"I know, I also wish we had kept a few more, but they didn’t fit well with the narrative and the pace of the story, and then we only had three episodes, unfortunately something had to be cut."

"Maybe you could do a sequel."

"Pull the brake, Valera," Boris laughed, "we have yet to see the audience's reaction, the ratings, the sale of the vhs, if the series will win some awards..."

“I’m sure it will win them. You have to win, otherwise it means that the critics are a bunch of morons!"

“Thank you for the support. But tell me," Boris teased him, "what do you think of the sex scene between me and Zinchenko?"

Now Valery was no longer jealous, sure of the place he occupied in the actor's life. He smiled mischievously and slipped a hand under his pajama jacket.

"Acceptable. But if I had been the director, it would have been very different."

"Show it to me," Boris whispered.

Valery did.

The day of the actor's departure, however, came too early for both of them.

Boris kissed him on the forehead.

"See you soon. I'll call you tomorrow night as soon as I settle in the hotel."

"Don't worry," Valery replied, holding his hand in his for a moment. He would have liked to accompany him to the airport gate, but since theirs was a secret relationship, they never showed up in public together. Although there was no longer the problem of the morality clause of Valery's contract, Boris didn’t want their relationship to be poisoned by the presence of paparazzi and curious onlookers.

"I'll wait," Valery said, brushing their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Tribute to "White sun of the desert", a Soviet movie from 1970.


	14. Scene 5 - Take 1

Shortly before embarking, Ulana reported to Boris that the audition done in Leningrad some time earlier hadn’t been successful and he hadn’t been chosen for the role.

Shcherbina was a bit surprised, he thought he was suitable for that role, but wasn’t too bothered: it had already happened that the choice fell on someone else, each audition was different.

Furthermore, when he finished shooting Tarakanov's movie, without a new project on the horizon, he would have had some time to devote to Valery. He had always worked hard, now he had a good reason to relax, he thought smiling, as he looked out the window.

"Excuse me," a shy voice stammered.

Boris turned his head and saw a woman standing in the corridor, with a hesitant smile.

"I don't want to disturb you, but are you Boris Shcherbina?"

"Yes, I am."

The woman covered her mouth with one hand.

"I recognized you right away, I'm a fan of you!"

"Thank you."

A steward approached, summoned by the chatter and looked at Boris, silently asking him if he wanted the woman driven away, but Bois shook his head: he was used to being recognized and it wasn't a problem.

"I was wondering if I could have your autograph," the woman said, handing him a crumpled copy of _"The Foundation Pit."_ [1]

"I love this book," said Boris, returning the signed copy to the owner.

Tarakanov's movie set was located just outside Turkistan and, despite the heat and wind, the crew did their best to set it up.

In the show biz Tarakanov was known as "the General" because of the rigorous, almost military-like attitude he had in directing the actors. He owned a small independent film studio with a couple of partners, so he had the maximum decision-making power over everything.

Boris had already worked with him and knew that Tarakanov didn’t like to joke while working, but this time he perceived him tense, as if something irritated him, and the director watched Boris with great attention, both during the shooting and off the set.

One evening, after washing off the dust and calling Valery, Shcherbina went down to the hotel lobby with a bottle of vodka, looking for the director. Tarakanov was severe, but when he wasn't working, he never said no to a glass of liquor.

He found him sitting on the external porch, enjoying the cool breeze of the evening. Tarakanov gave him a brief nod inviting him to sit down and Boris poured two glasses.

"Are you somehow displeased with me, Nikolai?" Boris asked without digression. The General appreciated frank and direct people.

The director didn’t hesitate and shook his head firmly, “By no means, you have framed your character perfectly. You know I'm stingy with compliments on set, but I appreciate your talent."

"Then why I'm under the impression of being watched constantly?"

Nikolai drew the edge of the glass with a finger. 

"It has nothing to do with the movie, and honestly, I wish you could stay focused only on that."

"I'm a professional, I'll do it anyway, whatever you tell me."

Tarakanov thought briefly, then nodded.

"Rumors have come to me."

Boris frowned without understanding, "Rumors? What rumors?"

The General seemed reluctant to continue, "Rumors about you, about the gender of people you... _hang out with_ ," he passed a hand over his forehead and sighed, "It's embarrassing, I know."

Was it about him and Valery? But they had been careful not to be seen together in public and no newspaper or magazine had published gossip on them, or Ulana would have warned them immediately.

"Who told you that?"

"I was told by one of my partners: he received an anonymous phone call shortly before we left Moscow to come here."

"I see."

"You're not denying your _associations_ ," Tarakanov observed, raising his head.

Boris held his gaze without hesitation, “I'm not going to do it. The only thing I will say is that it’s a private matter that has nothing to do with my job, and consequently with this movie."

The General poured himself some more vodka.

"I knew you would have answered like this."

"There's more?"

"When he heard that rumor, my partner asked me to replace you with someone else."

"But I'm here."

"You are: I specifically wanted you for this movie, you know, so I told my partner that in that case he would have to look for another director, too."

"Thank you."

Nikolai made a gesture with his hand, as if to say that there was no reason to thank him. 

"It's a nuisance I would have done without, you know I don't like distractions while I work, but it's not your fault, it’s just someone who has nothing better to do than stick their noses in the lives of other people."

Boris also poured himself another glass, "Well, it's a tangled story: Jughashvili could get us a script." [2]

Nikolai snorted a chuckle, “Jughashvili would cut his hand rather than write about gossip, and I certainly wouldn't direct such a movie. We don't care, Boris,” the director reassured him.

The actor wished him goodnight and returned to his room, but immediately called Ulana, letting her know what he had discovered.

A couple of days later, the agent joined him in Turkistan.

"Is it true?" Boris asked, "Are these the rumors going around?"

"Nothing in the open, nothing in the media, but I asked some of my contacts and, under the table, it’s said that you’re dating men, yes."

"Who says that?"

"Tarakanov's film studio wasn’t the only one to receive an anonymous call."

Boris pursed his lips and sighed: he knew that it could happen, but it was a problem he would have gladly done without.

"I was also thinking about the audition where you were discarded," Ulana continued.

"Do you think it depends on this?"

“I tried to ask the film studio for the reasons: they officially told me that someone else was more convincing than you, but we both know that that role was made for you. We have to figure out who may have been spreading these rumors around."

"Charkov," Boris replied confidently, "you told me that he was livid with anger when he discovered that Valery terminated the contract and that I hadn’t signed the morality clause."

"I don't know... he would never endanger his clients and the miniseries they financed, that was exactly what he wanted to avoid."

"But he isn’t doing it: no one knows anything outside, he spread the rumor only among some insiders. There is no evidence, Valery's name hasn’t been made, so nobody can ask him to verify. The rumors are very vague and don't go around too much, but it’s enough to insinuate doubts and make people act accordingly."

"So the miniseries and the investment are safe, but he can still sink your career. Shit," Ulana hissed, in an utterly atypical curse for her.

"And since we have no proof that it was Charkov, we have no weapons to stop him."

"I'll think of something," the agent said, although she didn't know how she could find a solution this time. "Rather, did you tell Valery?"

"Of course not."

"Boris! You shouldn't have any secrets with him, not about that: Valery is involved too,” Ulana scolded him.

“Valery is 3,000 kilometers away, and then what could he do? No, I would only worry him unnecessarily."

The woman shook her head, "I understand you want to protect him, but..."

"They are just rumors and there is no evidence," Boris interrupted her, "at some point they will run out."

Ulana knew when Boris wouldn't change his mind and gave up. She only hoped that he was right and that the rumors dried out before causing irreparable damage to his client's career, or to that newborn relationship: Boris and Valery were happy together, Ulana didn’t want stupid gossip to create problems to thir relationship.

After completing the preliminary phase of a new research project, Valery returned to the University for the new semester.

He hadn't even entered the building when he was stopped by a small group of his students.

"Professor Legasov! We thought you walked out of the University."

Valery tilted his head, puzzled: "How did you come up with this idea?"

"We checked the schedule of the lessons for the next semester and yours are not on it."

"What? No, there must be a mistake."

"Isn't that... you forgot to make some communications to the department?" one girl, Irina, ventured as politely as possible.

It was likely: Valery hated the bureaucratic part of teaching at the University, it wouldn’t have been the first time he forgot to sign and communicate some stupid form.

"I'm going to check immediately, but you may be right," he admitted with a small apologetic smile, which reassured his students.

"Great. We all would like to graduate with you."

"I will clear up the misunderstanding as soon as possible."

The amministrative office knew nothing, but actually Valery's lessons weren’t on the calendar. They only told him that the dean would see him in a couple of hours and explain everything.

It seemed strange to Legasov that it was the dean himself to deal with a bureaucratic mistake, but when he tried to enter his office, he found the door locked and the lock changed.

He was shocked: what was going on?

He waited, nervously walking down the corridor in front of the dean’s office and smoking one cigarette after another until he finished the package, which he crumpled into a bin, but not even nicotine calmed him.

His mind had examined all the possible scenarios, but he hadn’t been able to find an explanation for what was happening: when he had been on the set of _Infinite Impact_ he had regularly communicated his absence, once he returned he hadn’t quarreled with colleagues, or with some offspring of a wealthy family.

The dean didn't stand up when he entered his office, didn't even tell him to sit down, so Valery stood in the middle of the room.

"Can I know what's going on?" he finally asked, exasperated, spreading his arms.

"Are you seriously asking, Comrade Legasov?"

"Of course I’m asking: I come back and find that my subject isn’t scheduled on the calendar and my office is locked!"

"Very unpleasant rumors about you came to me, rumors that made me reconsider you teaching to young students. Or being in the same room with them." He looked at him with contempt, as if Valery was dangerous.

In the past there had been a scandal, immediately silenced by the University: a female student and a professor's young assistant were lovers and she got pregnant. When the assistant didn’t want to take care of the child, she threatened to tell everyone, so the dean solved the problem by firing the assistant and expelling the girl.

Had that happened then? Had a girl accused him of harassment?

“It's a ridiculous accusation! I have never touched a girl from my class or from this University, if someone says otherwise, they lie."

"No, in fact it seems that you prefer boys."

"What?"

“Or maybe just men your age? Not that this is better."

Valery paled and felt his stomach twitch.

"My private life is my own business, stay out of it," he hissed, but immediately realized his mistake: he hadn’t denied the accusation, and the dean obviously noticed it.

"It's not just a private matter, the moment you teach to students who are still young and impressionable."

"My students are much smarter than... than many people I know," Valery concluded after a short pause. He had _"you"_ on the tip of his tongue, but it would have aggravated a position that was already precarious. "And in any case," he went on, "this topic has never been and will never be discussed in class. I teach nuclear physics, not gossip."

“I’ll not take the risk: if someone learned about your tendencies, who knows how many parents would withdraw the students. The reputation of the University is at stake here."

"I want to know who spread these rumors."

The dean shrugged, "It was an anonymous phone call from an honest citizen who cares about the morality of our society. And I'm inclined to listen to him, unless you want to deny these rumors, Legasov."

Valery hesitated: he could do it, but he had no doubts that the University would have him followed by a private investigator, to make sure he wasn't lying.

Boris' name hadn't come out, or the dean would have named him, so for the moment the actor was safe, but if Valery had been followed, they would have found out immediately.

"I thought so," said the dean, who had interpreted Valery's silence as an admission of guilt, "We have nothing more to say, then."

“Oh no, not at all: what about my students? Many of them want to graduate in my subject: they must not suffer negative consequences."

“It won't happen: we are already looking for someone to replace you. When we find the right professor, lessons will resume regularly. That's all," the dean said, and Valery understood that, whatever he said, he wouldn't move the man from his position: he was out of the University.

Still shaken, he left the building and sat down at the first bus stop, trying to calm down. He took off his glasses and rested his forehead on his clenched fists, bending over.

He was devastated: one thing was to give up being mentioned in the end credits of a TV series, but this... university and teaching were his job, his life, and now they had taken it away from him.

It almost seemed to him that he had betrayed those students who had asked him about the lessons a few hours earlier.

He took a deep breath, but continued to shake with anger: it was a very low blow and it hurt.

He had no doubt that it was Charkov: the lawyer had made that exact threat when they spoke in the car, and he had finally found a way to make it real without exposing himself or harming his clients.

"Shit..." Legasov hissed.

"Comrade? Comrade, are you feeling unwell?" An elderly woman dragging a shopping cart stopped beside the bench, worried by Valery's pallor and his crouched pose.

"I’m just dizzy, thank you," he reassured her.

"Drink some water," suggested the woman, and then she started walking again.

Valery thanked her one last time, but couldn't help thinking that if he told her the truth, that he had been kicked out of the university because he was gay, the woman wouldn't have worried about him at all.

"It sucks..." murmured the professor, discouraged, "It really sucks..."

More than an hour passed before Valery calmed down enough to get up from there and go home.

He bought the newspaper and once in his apartment he read it from top to bottom, fearing to read some indiscretions about Boris.

There was nothing and that was a small consolation, but it didn’t improve his situation or his mood.

He still had his job in the laboratory and nobody could fire him from there, because he was one of the founders and most of the research and experiments were his, without him that place would have closed in a month, but Valery had no doubts that the dean had also called his colleagues, to make them aware of the rumors, behaving as... how had he called it? Ah yes, _an honest citizen who cares about the morality of our society._

"Fuck it," Valery hissed, lighting a cigarette.

He looked at the phone: should he tell Boris?

Venting out with him would have given Valery relief, Boris would have reassured him, but in Turkistan it was already night, also the actor was working with a severe and demanding director, Valery didn’t want to distract him, giving him other worries.

Maybe Ulana would have known how to help him, but unfortunately she was in Kazakhstan too.

Boris' hope proved to be in vain: not only did the gossip not end, but it reached more and more ears, but without ever leaking out of the show biz world.

As much as he wanted to put his hands around the lawyer’s neck, Boris recognized that Charkov had carried out a surgical operation from that point of view.

Soon even the actors who worked with him on the set of Tarakanov's movie came to know the gossip, and many now avoided him openly, so, despite being surrounded by a very large troupe, he was almost completely isolated.

Fortunately, the script written by Jughashvili told of alienated and surreal characters, the detachment in this case helped the acting, but any other type of story would be affected by the mood of hostility.

Boris did his best, behaving as professionally as possible, on and off set: he couldn't do anything about the people around him, but he wouldn't give them any foothold to attack him.

But when he was alone in his hotel room, worries surfaced.

Charkov really had the power to drown him in oblivion with those rumors: no one would ever call him to shoot a movie or act in the theater, he would simply disappear and the fans would forget him.

It was a frightening prospect for an actor: the applause and the warmth of the fans were an injection of confidence and a spur to always give the best.

Boris also phoned Valery less often: he stood firm in his intention not to tell him anything, so Valery wouldn’t worry, but it was difficult even for him to pretend that everything was fine.

Valery had clung to the idea that he still had his laboratory and his research, that Charkov hadn’t been able to take away everything but, as he feared, the gossip had reached his colleagues.

And if they couldn't force Legasov to leave his own laboratory, they could find excuses for not working with him anymore.

It was a huge problem, because many of the experiments were being carried out by a team, it was almost impossible to do all the work alone, but Valery strengthened and did it: he wouldn’t have allowed them to bend and defeat him.

However, it was very tough: although he no longer held lectures at the university, the experiments now kept him busy all day, sometimes until late at night, and so he could talk to Boris - his only consolation - much less than in the early days.

He also lived up to his original purpose and had said nothing to Boris or Ulana about his problems.

It was a heavy burden, but he couldn't share it with Boris, even though he almost felt like he was lying, when they were on the phone and Valery didn’t address the problem.

"You sound tired," Boris said one evening. The telephone line was disturbed and Boris' voice was barely audible.

Valery rubbed his forehead.

"I'm working on a complicated experiment," he said, but it wasn't entirely true: in optimal conditions it was a normal experiment, but having to do it all by himself, it became much more difficult.

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Yes, mom," Valery said with a chuckle, but he was glad that Boris couldn't see his face at the moment, because he wasn't laughing.

Boris also chuckled slowly, "Hey, I’m only caring about the man I love."

Valery squeezed the receiver tightly.

"Say it again," he pleaded.

"I love you."

 _"I have this,"_ Valery thought, holding on to that thought with all his might: with the awareness of Boris' love he could go on.

"I love you too."

"Listen to us, we sound like two teenagers," Boris laughed again, then became serious, "But thanks, it's always nice to hear you say those words."

"Hey," said Valery cheerfully, changing the subject, "Did you hear that the Nika nominations came out? _Infinite impact_ has plenty of them."

Obviously Boris was also nominated for best lead actor in a drama series.

Boris laughed slowly, “We are on the edge of the desert, but not out of the world. Ulana told me as soon as they were out."

"Are you going to the ceremony?"

"Yes, the filming of this movie will end in time."

"I'll watch and cheer you on."

"Where would I be without my number one fan?" Boris said. It was meant to be a joke, but his voice took on a sweet inflection and his face opened in a smile. It was true: in that dark and difficult moment, he didn't know what he would have done without Valery.

"When are you coming back to Moscow for indoor shooting?"

"In about a month, but I won't be able to go home immediately."

"Why?"

“Tarakanov is a brilliant director, but he has particular ideas about managing the cast. Since this story is about a group of people who don't get along with each other, he wants us to stay in a hotel and not in our house even when filming indoors in Moscow. He says that we would relax too much at home and the mood of the film would be affected, while keeping everyone in the hotel will maintain the right degree of frustration." [3]

"I'll be frustrated for sure," Valery mumbled: knowing Boris in the city and not being able to see him was comparable to torture.

"I know."

"Well, when we meet again, we will rehearse some other scenes of _that_ movie."

Boris almost growled, "Oh, count on it, I have a lot of ideas."

Only when he hung up, Valery realized that, once they resumed their routine, sooner or later Boris would discover that Valery no longer taught at university: no homework around the house, no lesson planning... what would he say to Boris?

Boris wasn’t stupid, he would understand quickly that Valery had lied to him when he told that everything was fine.

And he wasn't a great relationship expert, but the lies weren't exactly something healthy in a relationship.

"I don't want to think about it now," he murmured darkly, lighting a cigarette.

3,000 kilometers away, Boris' thoughts weren’t very different: sooner or later Valery would notice that something had changed, that Boris had no more stacks of scripts on the table to choose from, and that his phone had become very silent.

He realized that perhaps Ulana was right: he shouldn't have hidden it from Valery, it had been like lying to him and now he no longer knew how to get out of that situation.

In his desire to protect Valery from the truth, he had probably made the same mistake that led to his divorce from Ekaterina: thinking he could manage everything by himself, even the problems that affected both of them.

He threw himself on the bed, running a hand through his hair, "What a mess."

He had to find a way to talk to Valery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Dystopian novel by Andrei Platonov. It’s the story of some men called to dig the foundations of a large people's house, but as they proceed in the excavation, they lose sight of the reason they’re doing it. It’s a merciless criticism of the obtuseness of the Soviet bureaucracy and although it was written in 1930, it was published in the USSR only in 1987, with the easing of censorship.
> 
> [2] In the HBO series, he is the remote pilot of the lunar rover.
> 
> [3] The history of cinema is full of absurd and bizarre requests made by the directors.  
> Lars Von Trier is reputed to be a very demanding and difficult person: he traumatized Bjork to the point she didn’t act anymore.  
> Hitchcock hated improvisations, he wanted everything to be as planned, with no changes.  
> Kubrick made Shelley Duvall shoot a scene in Shining 127 times.  
> Tarantino imposes many rules on actors, including the "Lex Quentini" which requires turning off and handing over cell phones to an assistant during filming... it's not just the actors who have their little whims.


	15. Scene 5 - Take 2

However, when they met again, they didn’t speak at all.

Boris went to Valery’s place, and when he opened the door, Valery was standing in the corridor waiting for him.

The smell of the old apartment, of paper, cigarettes and old tapestry, hit him, causing him a wave of nostalgia: he was at home.

Problems, worries, Charkov, everything remained outside the door.

Then a smile from Valery was enough for Boris to literally throw himself on him, kissing and stripping him frantically, without giving him time to breathe, without thinking of anything other than the taste of Valery’s mouth and the softness of his flesh under his hands.

Impatient, he pushed him towards the bedroom, laid him on the bed and when Valery welcomed him inside himself, he let out a sob.

"I missed you," he said afterwards, while Valery's hand stroked his nape lazily.

Valery exhaled a chuckle: "Yes, I noticed."

Boris kissed his sweaty neck, then raised himself on his elbows to look at his blue eyes: he really missed him like air. However he couldn’t help but notice that Valery had deep dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired."

Valery looked away, shrugging, "Yes, well, I told you that I am very busy with laboratory experiments."

"You should delegate more," Boris suggested, placing his lips on his shoulder.

_ "I can't do it, there is no one who wants to work with me anymore," _ Valery thought, and for a moment he was about to tell, to tell him everything, but he hadn’t the courage.

"You have lost weight," he said instead.

"I found that Kazakh cuisine isn't for me," Boris joked. He certainly couldn’t tell Valery that the worries about his future had taken away his appetite, not when the scientist already had his problems at work.

"Worse than what I cook?"

This time Boris laughed heartily and part of the weight on him disappeared.

"Your cooking isn't bad, you just need some practice."

"And a good teacher?" Valery suggested hopefully.

_ "Can you stay for a while?" _ it was the question hidden behind his words. He thought he had been too cryptic, but Boris understood and smiled.

"I can give you some lessons, but certainly not for free," murmured the actor, sliding his lips over Valery’s skin.

"What if I paid you in kind?" Valery proposed, running a hand through his hair.

"Deal."

Boris went back to lie on top of him and Valery hugged him tightly.

_ "I love him, I don't want to lose him, I don't want my problems to destroy us," _ he thought.

For a few weeks they maintained a fragile, precarious balance: the actor stopped for a few days at the professor's apartment and vice versa. In this way, they prevented any curious neighbours from asking too many questions.

As Boris had feared, Valery noticed that the actor had nothing to do at the moment and that he didn’t meet Ulana so assiduously anymore.

"I took a little break," Boris explained one day as he was cooking. He didn’t turn to look at Valery, “Tarakanov's film was challenging. I don't remember, do you like a little spice?" he asked, quickly changing the topic, showing him some fresh chili.

"No, please. I can barely stand the pepper,” Valery laughed.

"So you only like spice in the bedroom."

"Stop it," Valery muttered, lowering his eyes.

"Nope. Remember? I love making you blush,” said Boris, reaching out to grab and kiss him.

One evening, Boris was waiting for Valery for dinner, but the scientist was very late.

He called around nine, to tell him that he was finishing writing a report, and Boris still waited for him, but in the end it got so late that he went to bed.

Valery finished writing and delivering the report past one a.m., barely in time. Unfortunately he couldn’t relax or rejoice too much, because new deadlines were on the horizon and no one among his colleagues had changed attitude, so he had to do everything by himself.

He was really tired and could barely keep his eyes open on the taxi that took him to Boris'. He wasn't even hungry, despite the inviting smell that still lingered in the actor's apartment; he threw his clothes on the floor and silently slipped under the covers.

Not as quietly as he thought, however, since Boris woke up.

"Hey," he muttered, closing an arm around his waist.

“Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up. Go back to sleep, it's late."

However, Boris was now awake and stood up to watch the alarm clock.

"Valery! You can’t continue with this work schedule."

"Well, I have no alternative!" Valery cried, exhausted from that horrible situation, but immediately regretted having raised his voice with Boris, who was only worried about him, and in the dark he sought his face, stroking him, "Sorry, I'm an asshole."

"You're not," Boris reassured him by kissing his forehead, "You're just very stressed. I didn't want to put more pressure on you."

"You didn't," Valery said, holding on to his pajama jacket, "It's just..."

“A terribly busy period, I understand it. I've been there too."

"I love you..." Valery muttered, already half asleep.

"I love you too," replied the actor.

The next morning Valery left very early, promising Boris that he would return home sooner that evening; left alone, the actor thought about a particular period of his career, some years before, when he agreed to work simultaneously on three projects, one movie and two TV series. In none of the three did he have a leading role, so he was sure he could manage everything easily, but he was wrong. The production times of the TV series, in particular, were very tight, and he barely had time to read the script to learn his lines. He didn’t have a moment for himself, he could barely sleep and came out of that period tired and stressed.

He believed that Valery felt the same way.

At that time Boris would need someone to let off steam and talk to, to disconnect from work even a few minutes. Now he certainly couldn't help Valery in his job, but he could spend the lunch break with him. A small gesture of support, perhaps, but he was sure that it would make Valery feel better.

He prepared two sandwiches and some fresh fruit, slightly disguised his appearance so as not to be recognized on the street, put on a hat and sunglasses and went to the University: if nothing had changed, Valery was there until early afternoon and then he went to the laboratory.

He stopped in front of the map of the building that was at the entrance, next to the lessons calendar. It was a very long list and Boris read it twice, but he didn’t find Valery's name. He looked back at the map, to see where his office was, but he found nothing there too.

Eventually he resolved to seek help from a couple of students who passed by.

"Valery Legasov, did you say?" one of the girls asked, looking for the name on the list.

"Yes."

"In fact the name isn’t here, but this list is never updated," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"What does he teach?" the other girl asked.

"Nuclear physics."

"The department is located in the west wing, sixth floor. He’s there for sure."

"Thank you."

However, in the department, on none of the plaques attached to the office doors, there was the name of Valery.

"Can I help you?" asked a secretary, who had noticed him wandering around.

"Yes: I'm looking for Professor Valery Legasov."

Hearing that name, the woman reacted in a bizarre way, stiffening and taking a step back, like Boris had told her he wanted to restore the Romanov dynasty.

"Professor Legasov no longer works for us."

Those words were an icy shower for Boris, who took several seconds to assimilate them.

"Really? Since when?"

"Since the beginning of the semester. Who are you anyway?"

"Nobody," he said hastily, and left.

Valery was no longer teaching and hadn't told him.

So he lied to him.

But why?

And if he wasn't in the university, where did he go all day?

He couldn't believe that Valery, so honest, had kept such an important fact from him.

He really didn't know what to think.

A thousand hypotheses came to his mind, from the most probable ones (a ferocious quarrel with a colleague or the dean himself), to the most absurd ones (Valery had a double life he hadn't told him about), to the most painful ones (he was already tired of that clandestine love and had found someone else) but in the end he chased them all away, shaking his head vigorously: no, he wouldn’t have been influenced by his mind or his past experiences.

There was only one thing to do: ask Valery.

Valery started working on the next report as soon as he set foot in the office, typing the results of the experiments for a couple of hours.

When he reached a particularly delicate point of the explanation, he put his hand in his pocket, looking for the notebook: he had already written something and it would have come in handy.

However, he found it empty, the block wasn’t there.

He closed his eyes and swore softly: the night before, at Boris’ place, he had casually thrown his jacket on the floor, surely the block had slipped out of the pocket and under the bed. Since those notes would save him time, he decided to go back to the actor's house to look for them.

Once there, he knelt under the bed and found the block immediately; he got up, went back to the door, opened it and found Leonid Toptunov in front of him, as he was about to knock.

Valery started: what could he say to him? His presence at the actor's house, months after the filming of  _ Infinite impact _ was undoubtedly strange. He decided not to say anything: he knew that every time he opened his mouth, he ended up betraying himself.

The young man was also surprised, but after a moment he smiled politely and held out his hand, "Professor Legasov, how long!"

"Lenya! How are you?"

“Very busy, as always. Is Comrade Shcherbina at home?"

"No, Boris is..." Valery frowned: he didn't know where Boris was. He hadn't said anything to him that morning, maybe he had gone for a walk or was at Ulana's. "He's not here right now, but you can tell me."

The boy handed Valery a book he was holding, “On the set of  _ Infinite Impact _ , Comrade Shcherbina was so kind to lend it to me, but I forgot to return it. Today I had some time and I thought to come."

"You are very kind," Valery took the book and placed it in the bookshelf, where there was an empty space. Boris' bookstore was very tidy, with authors in alphabetical order.

That detail made him smile like a fool, before remembering that he wasn't alone.

Leonid was still politely at the door with his arms behind his back.

"Well, now I have to go back to Mosfilm. Say hello to Comrade Shcherbina and tell him once again that it was truly an honor to work with him: he is a great actor.”

The solemn tone of the boy's words struck Valery, "I certainly will, but I’m sure that sooner or later you and Boris will work together again."

"I sincerely wish it, I cheer for Comrade Shcherbina, but you know better than me it will be difficult, with the situation that has arisen."

"What situation?" Valery asked.

Leonid peered at the professor carefully.

"You... don't know anything?"

Valery was increasingly confused.

"Know what, Lenya?"

"I'm sorry... you’re here in his house, I thought that... I assumed you knew, that he had told you about it."

"What was he supposed to talk to me about?"

"I don’t know if…"

"No, please," Valery pleaded, "you're making me worry. What was Boris supposed to tell me about?"

"About the rumors on him."

Gossip? Was it that? But nothing had come out in the newspapers and magazines: now Valery was reading them very carefully, so what was Leonid talking about? And why had Boris said nothing to him?

It seemed he wasn't the only one with secrets.

Curiously, the thought didn’t make him feel better, on the contrary, it hurt him.

"Please Lenya, I want to understand."

The boy moistened his lips, “I don't know where these rumors started from, but they spread quickly: it’s said that Comrade Shcherbina has relationships with several men; for this reason the film studios are no longer calling him to work."

"Wh-what?" Valery stammered. He covered his mouth with one hand, feeling his stomach twitch with nausea.

Charkov, that bastard! It was him for sure. Eventually he had managed to ruin not only his life, but also that of Boris.

“Those rumors are inaccurate. I have a relationship with only one man," said a hoarse voice from the back of the corridor.

Boris was there, leaning against the wall, with an indecipherable look on his face.

Leonid looked at Valery, then at the actor, and finally approached Boris, murmuring something that Valery didn't catch, but it had to be something positive, because Boris smiled and thanked him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Leonid nodded, turned one last time to greet Valery and then left.

Boris looked at Valery.

"You and I need to talk."

Valery lit a cigarette and nodded, going to sit on the sofa.

Boris took off his tie and shoes and sat down next to him, resting his chin on his intertwined hands and releasing a heavy breath.

He looked terribly mortified, broken, and Valery just wanted to hug him and tell him that everything was fine, he didn't even care anymore that he hadn't told him about the rumors.

“What Leonid said is true: the rumors started circulating shortly after the end of the filming of  _ Infinite impact, _ they didn't end up on magazines, but I think they got to every theater and film studio in the Soviet Union.

I thought... I hoped they would stop and this story would end on its own, but it didn’t happen. I know you feel betrayed because I didn't tell you, but I thought I could manage it..." he hid his face in his hands, terrified by the idea that Valery could get mad at him, even leave him, "I shouldn't have lied to you."

"Wait," Valery stopped him; he put out his half-smoked cigarette and laid a hand on his arm, "Before you continue, I too have a confession to make: I no longer teach at the University."

It was right to tell him right away: Boris wasn’t the only one who made a mistake.

"I know."

"You know? How?"

Boris placed a small bag on the table.

"Today I went there: I wanted to have lunch with you."

Valery lowered his eyes, "Boris..."

"Can I ask you what happened?"

Valery bit his lip, remembering how the actor reacted when he told him that Charkov's assistant had taken photos of them. Knowing that the lawyer was implicated in Valery's sacking would have made him extremely furious, but Valery was tired of lying to him.

"Before I speak, can I ask you to stay calm?"

In Boris' mind, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"Was it Charkov?"

Valery nodded, disconsolate, “It’s the same rumor going around about you. The University doesn’t want me to teach students, and my colleagues in the laboratory behave as if I didn’t exist: this is why I’m always late and overwhelmed by work, because I have to do everything by myself."

Boris felt a blind fury rise inside him, like lava in the chimney of a volcano. He hissed a curse that made Valery flinch, roared "I'm going to kill him for real!" and tried to get up.

"No, please!" Valery grabbed him by the arm to hold him on the sofa, but he had the impression that, if only Boris had wanted, he would have lifted him, he was that furious.

"Give me one good reason not to kill him!"

"Going violent wouldn't help us."

"Us?"

"Well, of course: if you kill him, I will help you hide the corpse."

Valery didn't know where that streak of humor came from, but it helped, because Boris leaned his back on the sofa.

"Besides, Ulana would get angry," added Valery, "and I don't think I want to see her angry, bet she’s scary."

Boris nodded, "This is a valid reason."

They both laughed without glee, contemplating their situation, then Valery adjusted his glasses on his nose, "I'm sorry, I lied to you about my sacking, I just did it so as not to give you a concern while you were filming the movie."

"I did it for the same reason, I didn't want to give you worries."

"Then it's really true that we complement each other, you and me."

Valery leaned his head against his shoulder, but felt a strange hesitation in Boris.

"Hey, what’s up?"

"Are you angry with me?"

Valery looked at him in shock, “No! How can you think that?"

“You would have every reason to be: if we weren't together, you would still have your job. Maybe what my ex-wife was saying is true: I’m the cause of the end of my relationships."

Valery pressed a hand to his mouth to silence him: it hurt to hear that Boris thought this of himself.

“You could say the same about me: if we weren't together, you would be making another movie now. The truth is that the fault is not ours in any way. I won’t consider our love a fault!"

Boris took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

Boris kissed him on the temple, "Yes, I have."

Valery stroked his face, "Hm, I'm not a great relationship expert, you know, but if I'm not mistaken, supporting each other is important in a couple."

Boris leaned his forehead against his, "I'm lucky to be with such a wise man."

Valery smiled and wrapped his arms around Boris shoulders, closing his eyes: the weight he had carried for weeks had disappeared, and it was certain that Boris also felt relieved, but their problem remained.

Charkov had disgraced them in a sneaky way, and they both had suffered the consequences.

"What will you do now?"

Valery still had his job, however complicated it had become, but Boris?

"I'll be ok. Now I really want to take a break, I'm not in the best mental condition to act. And for the future, I can still count on some independent production, which cares much less about gossip. Besides, I opened an acting school in Kiev: if it really goes wrong, I could teach there a few days a week. But to be honest, I still hope that the gossip will deflate on its own. For example, if I win an award..."

"Of course!" Valery exclaimed, "At that point, your prestige would make you work again."

They went on like this: since Boris' apartment was closer to Valery's laboratory, he proposed the scientist to move there temporarily (at this point he really didn't care being photographed by some paparazzi), and he helped him as he could, preparing lunch and making him find dinner. This didn’t lighten the scientist's workload, but it took away the small tasks that made him waste time.

Meanwhile, the award season was getting closer.

_ Infinite impact _ was always the favourite in the predictions, but lately a valid competitor had sprung up,  _ Black gold, _ a miniseries by Lenfilm directed by a young debut director, Mikhail Shchadov, but that could count on a highly experienced actor like Andrei Glukhov.

It was the story of a miner who fought against time to save his comrades imprisoned underground after the collapse of the mine. The screenplay didn’t have the same finesse as  _ Infinite Impact _ , however it managed to hide the plot holes with a pressing rhythm and many action scenes.

One day Ulana stopped at Boris’ to deliver the lineup of the Nika awards ceremony: the meeting of the cast members at the studios, the arrival on the red carpet, the interviews and the highlights of the evening.

Valery was surprised, "I didn't think the ceremony was planned in such detail.”

"It is," the agent replied, "perhaps more than a movie: while we are talking, they are rehearsing at the theater with extras instead of the real guests."

"Really?"

“You can't improvise, since the ceremony is broadcast live: the cameramen must know exactly where to point the cameras and when to film, while the host and those who deliver the awards have a kind of script to follow. Without that there would be long and embarrassing pauses."

Boris had withdrawn from the conversation, and eventually muttered, "Blue."

"What?"

"I will wear a blue suit at the ceremony, I have decided."

Ulana crossed her arms over her chest, “You mean you will buy a blue suit. Boris, you already have dozens of suits, in a while you will need a new wardrobe."

"Not a blue one."

"You have four of them," Valery intruded.

"Not the right shade of blue. Besides, you should be on my side!" the actor grumbled.

Valery chuckled: Boris loved to dress elegantly and there was no denying that he was rather vain about his appearance. But he was pleased that he got distracted and detached his mind from the worries of the last few months, even just by purchasing yet another suit.

On the afternoon of the ceremony Valery was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

For weeks he has said to himself, like a mantra, that  _ Infinite impact _ was an excellent product even if it hadn’t received any award, but in truth he cared, because he felt like this series was a bit his, even if he had terminated the contract.

And winning an award would surely have helped Boris' career.

He had to win.

Boris looked calm and spent most of the afternoon getting ready, and when the car from the production arrived, he put on his new blue suit (very nice indeed).

"I don't know what to tell you," Valery sighed before he went, "I knew that saying  _ ‘good luck’ _ actually is bad luck, and  _ ‘break a leg’ _ is said only before a performance..."

Boris placed two fingers under his chin and kissed him.

"Say it with your words."

Valery understood; smiled.

"I love you."

Half an hour later Valery turned on the television, in time for the official ceremony to begin: Boris and the other cast members paraded on the red carpet, gave some interviews, and entered the lounge.

Valery was already on his second cigarette and told himself he needed to calm down.

The movies were awarded first and only later series and miniseries.

That year there hadn’t been many brilliant series, and the only real competitor of  _ Infinite Impact  _ was  _ Black Gold _ , as he had imagined.

Shchadov's miniseries won all the technical awards, from special effects to the soundtrack (imposing and orchestral, more easy to appreciate than the minimalistic and somewhat cryptic one of their series), but when they began to distribute the most important awards, it seemed there wasn’t any more competition.

_ Infinite Impact  _ won the awards for screenplay, direction, photography, supporting actor with Dyatlov, leading actress with Zinchenko, and best series.

Only one award was missing, the one for best actor.

Valery's heart was beating fast.

The couple who delivered the award opened the envelope and...

It wasn’t Boris' name that they pronounced, but that of Andrei Glukhov.

Valery slumped on the couch, watching Boris politely clap his colleague, who went on the stage to collect the award.

"No! It can’t be!" Valery shouted into the empty room. All the major awards had gone to  _ Infinite Impact _ , except the one for the best actor.

Did Charkov have anything to do with it?

The professor was sure of it: after all the lawyer had managed to head the gossip to where he wanted, there was no reason not to believe that he hadn't spoken also with some members of the jury.

"Dammit," he hissed, taking his head in his hands.

Two weeks from now there would be the Vasilyev Brothers awards, but at this point Valery had no illusions:  _ Infinite impact _ would have won there too, while Boris would have been punished for... simply for what he was.

The actor returned home a couple of hours later, he hadn't stayed too long at the after party.

Valery walked to meet and hugged him.

"I'm sorry!"

Boris touched him on the shoulder.

"It's alright, I almost expected not to win. And anyway Glukhov is brilliant in that role, he deserved the award."

"No, it's not fair! We both know why you lost."

The actor shrugged, fatalistic, "Maybe. But we also know that we have no evidence and there is nothing we can do about it."

Valery didn't know what to do: how did one behave in those cases? Should he leave him alone to get rid of the disappointment?

"Boris, what..."

The actor didn't let him finish and leaned his forehead on his, "Stay."

The next day Ulana was back at Boris' house.

"Sitnikov and Garo want you to know that they’re outraged by the treatment that the jury has reserved for you."

Boris shrugged, "At least  _ Infinite Impact  _ has had the recognition it deserves."

Valery placed the cup of tea on the table more abruptly than he intended: the injustice of the situation infuriated him.

"Can't we really do anything?"

Ulana shrugged, "No. Well, there would actually be a solution, very common in cases like yours, but I have too much respect for both of you to suggest it."

"And you’re right," Boris chimed in, "because I would never accept."

"What are you two talking about?" Valery asked.

"A lavender marriage," Ulana explained. [1]

"Do they exist? I thought it was just a myth."

“Not at all,” Boris explained, “in the entertainment world many of my colleagues are homosexuals, but they resort to this loophole to continue working and silencing any rumors. It's an open secret."

"I see."

However Valery was glad that Boris didn't want to resort to that means: it would have been demeaning for their love, and he had no idea how they would manage a fake wife. Just the thought disturbed him deeply.

"I have no other options at the moment," Ulana admitted, rather discouraged, "Only to continue to advertise you."

“I know you’re doing your best. In the meantime I decided to give some lessons in my acting school in Kiev. I had already told Valery."

But Boris was under the impression that his artistic career had come to an end, and that he would disappear from the scenes as an inconsequential man, just as Charkov had said.

_ "We're sinking," _ Valery realized the next day, while he was in the lab, struggling with an experiment,  _ "I'm sinking in too much work, and Boris is sinking in the resignation of not working anymore." _

An acting class was a good diversion, it would have kept him busy for a while, but that wasn't Boris' real job. He loved acting, had to stand in front of a camera or on a stage.

That situation would end up wearing them out, drifting them apart irreparably, he could feel it.

He was scary, desperate.

_ "We are sinking, and I don't know what to do." _

Someone knocked on the door and a young voice called him: "Professor Legasov?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Lavender marriage: a phenomenon born in the United States in the era of prohibition when the actors were under contract with the majors, not much differently from an employee.  
> It went on for decades.  
> The contracts with the majors lasted an average of seven years, and imposed very stringent limits on the personal freedom of the actors (like who to give interviews, which parties to attend, what kind of films to make, etc...)   
> Homosexual relationships were viewed as scandalous, both for men and women, therefore, whenever the majors learned that one of their employees was involved in such a relationship, they hurried to make the actor or actress marry with someone from the other sex. A marriage that was a mere facade, that had no other purpose than to silence the gossip.  
> It was called lavender marriage because the violet, or lavender colour, has been associated with homosexuality since the beginning of the last century.


	16. Scene 5 - Take 3

Valery spinned around, facing about ten of his former university students.

"Oh, what are you doing here?"

The boldest of the group, Nestor, who had always been a kind of spokesman, came forward, “Do you know the story of Muhammad and the mountain? Here, you never came back to the University, so we came to you."

Legasov looked at his watch, "You should be in class now."

A girl in the group, Irina, shrugged, “The lessons have become useless! The professor the dean called to replace you, does nothing but read the textbook, and if anyone has doubts he simply says that all the notions we need are on the book."

Valery blazed with anger: notions weren’t everything in science. They were a starting point, but the answers weren’t found only in the books.

"Besides," Irina continued, "he eliminated almost all the laboratory and practical activities hours. He says we will have time for these things when we work, but for now we just have to study on the books."

"His teaching method is real shit," Anton muttered from the rear. Normally he was a polite and well-mannered boy, and this made Valery understand how deeply frustrated his former students must be.

"I'm really sorry."

"Is there no way to convince you to come back to the University? We know you left because you had a better job offer, but..."

"What? No, it’s not true," Valery interrupted, "Is this what the dean told you?"

The students nodded.

Valery pursed his lips, more and more furious: not only had the University sacked him for his sexual orientation, the dean had also made his students, of whom Valery cared very much, believe that he had abandoned them for money.

"It's a lie, the dean sacked me."

"What?" Nestor exclaimed, "That unbelievable son of a..."

"Nestor, language," Valery rebuked him good-naturedly.

"You're right, I'm sorry," the boy muttered, "but for the record, he is."

The students laughed and Valery shrugged.

"I certainly won't defend him."

"Why did he sack you?" Irina asked.

Valery licked his lips nervously, "He didn't think I was suitable to teach young people."

"Nonsense, you're the best professor we've ever had!" the girl exclaimed, and waited for an explanation, like everyone else.

Valery could have skated over, saying it was just the dean's decision, but the last few days had taught him that lies brought no good.

He himself had told the dean that those students were better and more clever than what people believed; they had come to him to find answers, and they deserved honesty.

Valery took a deep breath, overcame years, decades of fear, embarrassment and shyness, and said softly, "I... I'm gay. The dean found out and kicked me out."

Legasov didn’t know what reaction to expect from the students, but there was none, as if he had made a trivial comment about the weather.

Finally it was Irina who spoke, "This has nothing to do with your teaching, it's ridiculous!"

“I know, but it is what it is. I'm sorry I can't help you."

"Well, there’s another reason why we came here," Nestor added, "We had taken into account the possibility that you wouldn’t return to university, so we want to ask you to be your assistants here in the laboratory."

"I..." the scientist was speechless, he didn’t expect that offer. Heaven knew if he needed a hand, with his workload, but there was a problem.

"I can't afford to pay you."

"We wouldn't have asked you to," Anton said, "it would be an advantage for us, since we don't have laboratory hours at the University anymore."

"Yeah," Nestor exclaimed, "it's actually us who should pay you! Right?"

He turned to the group and everyone nodded. They had already made up their minds, Valery wouldn't have been able to dissuade them, and basically he didn't want to.

"Well, then... take a coat, let's start."

Valery's colleagues, when they saw him walking confidently towards the laboratory with the students in tow, widened their eyes in surprise. Valery allowed himself a small smile of derision towards them: things were about to change.

A few hours later he sent his new assistants out for lunch. There was only Nestor left, who was making some calculations.

"You're always the last," Irina joked.

"Well, what can I say, perfection takes time," replied the boy with a wink, running a hand through his hair.

It was obvious that he was head over heels about her.

Irina rolled her eyes, but smiled.

Valery went to his office to smoke a cigarette and complete an article he was writing; later Nestor knocked on the door and handed him the results.

"They are perfect," Legasov noted, after checking them.

"Cool, then I go and grab a bite too, I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Just a moment, Nestor."

The boy, cheeky and a little braggart, was the epitome of a budding alpha male, the kind of man who really showed no appreciation for homosexuality.

"Yes, Professor?"

“Is everything okay? I mean," he muttered, "isn't it a problem for you and the others that I'm gay?"

Nestor smiled, showing off a row of white teeth.

"Forgive my frankness, Professor Legasov, but we had known that you were gay much earlier than the dean."

Valery looked at him in shock, "How?"

"Well, you were always indifferent to Professor Meskova of radiology flirting with you. No straight, single man would have turned her down."

The scientist frowned, "Professor Meskova flirted with me?"

Nestor bent to his knees and laughed loudly, “Here is a really eloquent answer! Yes, she flirted with you! When she came to your office, god bless her, she always wore those tight dresses that highlighted her..." the boy mimicked two big breasts and Valery scolded him, scandalized, "Nestor!"

"Sorry, but it's true."

"Well..." He had never noticed. Nestor was right: his reactions spoke for him. "So there are no problems?" He insisted.

"No, Professor."

“Well, have a good lunch, then. Ah, one last thing: if you want to flirt with Irina, I suggest you to be more... delicate than that, more a gentleman, in short."

"Ah... you say?"

"I say. Girls don't like certain kinds of... appreciation on their body, like the ones you did on Professor Meskova."

Nestor frowned, as if the thought had never touched him.

"You think it's because of my attitude that she ignores me every now and then?"

"It’s probable."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Left alone, Valery smiled indulgently: after all he was a good boy, they all were.

For the first time in months, that evening Valery left the laboratory on time, thanks to the precious help of his assistants; however he couldn’t rejoice too much, because Boris wasn’t with him: the actor had left for Kiev for his acting class, and he wouldn't be back before for a month.

Valery missed him already, even though Boris had just left, but at least he could tell him the good news: when Boris returned to Moscow, they would have more time to spend together.

The director of the acting school had had no problem making room in the schedule for Boris’ masterclass.

Charkov hadn't bothered to get the rumors that far: he knew that the school was founded by Boris and he couldn’t hinder him there. Furthermore, he had already hit him where it hurt most, in his acting career, the rest obviously didn't interest him.

Boris entered the classroom; he was completely dressed in black and had no book or note with him.

All the students in the acting course stood up: each one had books and notebooks in front of him, and was ready to diligently take notes, but Boris surprised them.

"Close the books and follow me."

A little puzzled, the students followed him to the small school theater. 

Boris invited them to sit down and then went on the stage.

The students were studying both Soviet and foreign theater authors, and Boris played for them a short scene adapted from Pirandello's "Six characters in search of an author". [1]

There were no props or anything else on the stage, illuminated only by one light, but once Valery had told him that he could act relying only on his skills and make the scene real, and so he did.

As always happened to him when he went on stage or was in front of the camera, he forgot himself and his worries, and gave life to four different characters on his own, characterizing them at the best.

At the end he got off the stage and sat next to the students, who looked at him in admiration.

"I know that your teachers make you play roles that are congenial to you and make you feel at ease, and rightly so: you have just approached the world of acting, you can’t immediately dive into deep waters, before you have learned to swim well.  
However, throughout your career, you will be asked to play characters that will leave you puzzled, that you will struggle to understand, that will embarrass you. You will be asked to become someone who goes against your moral principles, someone who you hate even, but this is a fundamental part of our job: when we are there, on stage, we become someone else, we are the character.  
Our ideas, our principles must be left outside the theater or the set, we must think outside the box, wear someone else's clothes, and do it in the best way we can, out of respect for the people who are sitting here, or at their home in front of a TV.  
With this small class, I want to bring you in slightly deeper waters, to make you understand what it’s like; with your teachers we worked out a small script and assigned the roles."

Boris took some stapled sheets and distributed them among the aspiring actors: he had asked that the girls play male roles, better if violent and antagonistic, while the males would play women and children.

The actor had expected complaints, especially from the boys, and was ready to explain to them that during the Shakespeare era, men played all the roles, since women couldn’t act, instead everyone was enthusiastic about the initiative.

"When do we start?" asked one of them.

Boris spread his arms, "Right away, if you want."

In the evening Valery called him.

"Hey, how's my favorite actor doing?"

"Did something nice happen?" Boris asked. He perceived him different, in a good mood, almost happy.

"I can't hide anything from you, uh?"

Valery told him about his students, and Boris was really happy for him: the scientist had been incredibly stressed and under pressure in the last period, and Boris had left for Kiev with some anguish in knowing him alone.

"What about you?"

“Today I acted again, even if in front of a small audience. It was good," he admitted, "I missed it."

"Great. I'm happy for you, Borja, really."

“And I'm glad you have new helpers. It seemed that things would never improve, but maybe we were pessimistic."

"I hope so. Goodnight Borja."

"Goodnight, my love."

Boris worked hard with the students, followed all the rehearsals, gave advice and suggestions on how to improve technique, mimicry and diction. He encouraged them to follow their instincts, even if it meant changing the dialogues or improvising a scene that wasn’t written in the script.

He was a mentor, a screenwriter and a director for those kids during that class, and certainly being so busy helped him keep bad thoughts about his future at bay, but acting was still his life.

Many of his colleagues, over the years, ventured behind the camera or wrote scripts; he didn't, he had always been a pure actor. Of course, he could reinvent himself as a full-time teacher if no one called him to work anymore, but he felt it would never be the same.

In the meantime, Valery's former students didn't need help just with the lab: his replacement’s teaching method was also bad, so they needed additional lessons.

Valery made room in the living room of his apartment, retrieved an old blackboard from the attic, and organized a little classroom.

One afternoon, while he was explaining, the phone rang.

"Just a moment," he said, and answered.

"How's my favorite professor doing?"

"Borja, love!" Valery exclaimed enthusiastically, before remembering that he was not alone, "Er... I... ah..." he stammered, becoming beetroot, trying to pull the phone cable to the kitchen and closing the door.

The students pretended nothing happened, but Irina elbowed Nestor in the ribs, since the boy was chuckling.

"You're not alone, huh?" Boris asked.

"Yes, I’m teaching. I'm sorry."

"I just wanted to tell you that I won't be able to call you tonight, because I take my students to the theater."

"No problem, tomorrow then."

A couple of hours later Legasov dismissed the students. Only Irina lingered to collect her books.

"Excuse me, Professor Legasov, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Here… earlier... Was Boris Shcherbina on the phone? I thought I recognized his voice."

"Er..." Valery trusted his students, but the relationship between him and Boris was secret, and they had enough problems, he didn’t want more rumors to spread around.

"I don't want to be a stalker, or talking about it around," said Irina, a little shamefully, "but if by hypothesis you knew him and if, always by hypothesis, I brought you the vhs of one of his movies, do you think you can get me an autograph?"

Irina had become redder than Valery, and the professor recognized his same celebrity crush in her.

He smiled.

"I'll do it willingly."

"Aah, really?" Irina squeaked, screaming, then calmed down, "Excuse me. It's just that he's so good, I've seen all his movies, you know."

"No, no, I understand you perfectly," Valery mumbled, adjusting his glasses.

The class ended, Boris returned to Moscow, Valery suspended the lessons at his place for a few days, and moved back to the actor's house.

They were relaxing in bed after making love when someone rang the bell.

"Who is it?" Valery moaned in a whiny voice.

Boris shrugged and rolled the professor under him, kissing him on the chest.

"I don't care," he sighed, kissing Valery on his stomach, "Whoever it is, let's ignore it."

"But Boris..."

The actor kissed his belly and navel, "We should absolutely ignore it."

The doorbell rang again, and Valery ran a hand through his hair.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid your visitor doesn't want to do the same."

"Party spoiler."

With an annoyed sigh, Boris got up, retrieved his dressing gown and went to open.

It was Ulana: she was out of breath because she had run up the stairs and her eyes shone. In fifteen years Boris had never seen his phlegmatic agent so excited.

"Did something happen?"

"Oh, definitely yes. Valery is here, isn't he? He will want to listen too."

Before Boris had a chance to stop her, Ulana marched to the bedroom.

Valery let out a high pitched scream, but Ulana simply rolled her eyes, “Oh, please, you're not the first man I see naked. Now put something on and come over there, I have great news."

Five minutes later they sat at the kitchen table over a cup of tea. Valery was sitting on the edge of the chair, very tense, and Boris was also remarkably intrigued.

"So, what happened?"

" _Infinite impact,_ and Boris for his role of Ruslan were nominated for Emmys, Golden Cameras and Bafta."

Boris had to put the cup of tea on the table because it almost slipped from his hand.

"I didn't know that _Infinite Impact_ had been distributed abroad."

"At the beginning it wasn’t, but Sitnikov knows a person who knows another person who is a friend of Dino De Laurentiis... you know how it works. Well, they sent De Laurentiis the miniseries, and he liked it so much that he decided to distribute it through his channels, so in recent months it has been broadcast in Europe and also in the United States. In time for the awards season, plus." [2]

It was an extraordinary event: normally Soviet entertainment products were snubbed in the West world, because they were considered low quality, it was rare that they were taken into account, instead both the miniseries and his interpretation of Ruslan had been nominated for major international awards.

He wasn’t inconsequential at all, as Charkov claimed.

Boris turned to Valery with a huge smile, but his lover seemed hesitant.

"What's up?"

Valery took his hand, "Obviously I'm happy for you, and I really wouldn't want to ruin this moment, but aren't you afraid that Charkov will throw in a monkey wrench again, by calling some members of the juries?"

"No," Ulana chimed in, "Charkov has some contacts here, it's true, but outside the Soviet Union he's nobody. In addition, the position of the West world on homosexuality is different from ours: there are several openly gay actors who work without problems. Even if Charkov made those calls, he would just be ignored."

Finally Valery also smiled and looked at Boris for confirmation.

"Yes, it's just like Ulana said."

Valery launched on him.

"Then you will win all the awards, I'm sure!"

"Slow down," laughed Boris, "It’s enough for me to know that this time I will be judged impartially, for how I acted and not for my private life."

"So you'll win," Valery insisted, smacking a kiss on his lips.

“Don't get distracted, you two. I have another news that you will like."

"Better than this?" Boris asked, "I doubt it."

"Well, Karl Heinz Willschrei, a West German producer, has noticed and wants you as a guest star on his show, _A case for two_ , for two or maybe three episodes, still not sure, it depends on the script." [3]

Boris was incredulous: not even at the height of his career had he hoped that they would call him to work abroad. He couldn’t contain the joy: he stood up, laughing, and lifted Valery into his arms.

Surprised, the scientist clung to his shoulders with an alarmed scream, then he laughed too, infected by Boris' joy, and leaned his forehead on his.

"I'm back on track, Valera!"

"I'm so happy for you, love."

Boris captured his lips and Valery responded to the kiss wholeheartedly, regardless of the show they were offering to Ulana.

"Okay, I'd say it’s time to leave you alone to celebrate," the agent chuckled, "and for me to go back to work."

She had been afraid that her client's career was over, so she was almost as happy as Boris and Valery about that turn. And she felt an enormous pleasure at the thought that Charkov was having gastritis out of anger right now.

"Did you get everything?" Valery asked anxiously as Boris closed the suitcase.

"Yes, I'm not like a certain professor who would forget his head on the pillow if it wasn’t attached to his neck."

"Very funny," Valery grumbled.

Boris walked up to him and put his hands on Valery’s hips.

"You know, part of me still wants you to come with me."

Ruslan's character wouldn't have been noticed by international critics if Boris hadn't been inspired by Valery to create him.

Valery stroked his hair and leaned his forehead on his, “We've already talked about it. I’m fine, I've already had my award." In fact, he held it in his arms.

"Thank you," whispered Boris.

"For what?"

“For everything: without you I don't know what I would have done in these months. As much as things went wrong, as much as I was afraid of the idea of not working anymore, I had you. I've got you. You have been my lifeline."

Valery hugged him tightly, burying his face in his neck, overwhelmed with emotion.

"Hey... are you trying to make me cry?"

Boris just snorted a chuckle that ruffled Valery’s hair and stroked his back.

“I just wanted you to know how important you’re to me. I’ll never stop reminding you, at the cost of making you shed a few tears."

"You are everything to me too, Borja: the past few months I would have had a nervous breakdown if you weren't there by my side."

Now the situation has definitely improved for both of us.

Since the news of the nomination of _Infinite Impact_ and Boris had spread, the actor's phone hadn’t stopped ringing. The first to offer their congratulations were the colleagues of the miniseries, but later also other producers and actors, who had ignored Boris after the rumors, had called him, and now there were a couple of new movies on the horizon for the actor.

Also in the lab things were better for Valery: thanks to the help of his assistants, the scientist carried out many experiments, and his colleagues realized that not only could they not boycott him, but they also risked being excluded from important research, and therefore they changed their attitude.

Down on the street, the driver who had come to pick up Boris honked, and Valery slipped his hands away from him.

"Have a safe trip."

Boris ran a hand through Valery's hair.

"You know, we actors are superstitious and say nothing before an award ceremony, but if I were to win, in my heart I will dedicate the victory to you."

Valery closed his eyes, "I told you to stop trying to make me cry!"

Boris whispered "I love you," before leaving.

The flight to Los Angeles was the longest that Boris had ever faced, he was groggy with the jet lag and very tense for the award ceremony, but he was so thrilled to be there that he hardly noticed.

He had brought many changes of clothes, not only as a concession to his innate vanity, but to offer an impeccable image of himself.

Except for the translator they had given him, Boris was alone: there had been a problem with Sitnikov's visa, while Bryukhanov was busy directing a movie and hadn’t been able to free himself, so Boris knew he had everyone's eyes on him, both by the Americans and by his Soviet fellow citizens.

He was polite, praised the welcome he had received, but at the same time he showed himself to be confident and proud of his origins.

At times he felt more like a politician than an actor.

The Emmy ceremony was long and very high-sounding.

Boris believed that the Soviet May Day parades were pompous, but this ceremony beat them all.

However, he smiled politely when the cameras were on him and applauded at the right time.

The awards for the lead actor and the best drama series were the last to be delivered; despite being used to ceremonies, Boris felt the tension grow.

Finally the time came; after a brief overview of the nominated actors, the host opened the envelope and... pronounced his name. Uncertain, distorted, but it was the name of Boris Shcherbina.

Boris smiled, made a short bow and walked on the stage, as dazed and incredulous as the other actors were. Many thought that he had been nominated only for political games, to show that the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences was open to any production, no matter where they came from, but in reality no one had bet on him to win the Emmy.

Instead now the statuette was in his hands.

Boris didn't know how he managed to deliver his thank you speech without simply bursting out in a jubilant cry, but finally he looked straight into the camera, lifted the statuette and made an imperceptible nod.

_"For you, Valera."_

Thousands of miles away, at a late hour, Valery was kneeling in front of the TV, one hand on the screen touching the face of his lover.

_"Enjoy this moment, Borja, enjoy the applause and the recognition of your colleagues, you deserve them."_

_Infinite Impact_ also won the award and again Boris went on stage, thanking the production and all those who had contributed to the success of the series.

In London it didn’t go as well, but after all Boris was opposed to Michael John Gambon and the amazing _The Singing Detective_. [4]

Instead in Berlin it was again a full triumph, both for him and for the series.

He also met Willschrei in person, and discussed his participation as a guest star in _A Case for Two_ . The story revolved around a Russian spy and was interesting despite being a little cliché. In addition, the producer was really enthusiastic about Boris' performance in _Infinite Impact_ and was planning to call him also for other future productions.

When Boris returned to Moscow, he was flooded with requests for interviews on TV, radio and newspapers. 

He had talked to Ulana about the possibility that Charkov insisted on boycotting him, making the gossip about his sexuality public, but even if it did, now Boris had opportunities to work abroad. In addition, his prestige had increased after he had won the awards: Charkov's chances of boycotting him had drastically decreased.

Despite this, he and Valery had decided to keep their relationship secret, because they couldn’t stand the intrusiveness of the press in their private life, and also to protect themselves from the hate of violent homophobes.

Their was a love story, not a political manifesto, and they simply wanted to live it normally, as hundreds of thousands of other couples did every day.

Therefore, due to the media attention that had poured on Boris after his return home, they waited a few weeks before meeting again, even if, if it were up to Boris, he would have thrown himself into Valery's arms as soon as he got off the plane.

So when Valery knocked, the actor dragged him inside, closed the door and pushed him against it, kissing him impatiently, without any control. He took off his shirt and tank top, and Valery took a breath.

"I wanted to ask you if you missed me, but... mph..."

Boris' lips were on his again, while the actor dragged the professor towards the bedroom: too much time had passed.

"I want you," he hissed, growled, into his ear.

Valery didn’t really oppose Boris' assault, he was as much impatient, but he wanted to tease him a little.

"Hey, slow down," he clucked, placing a finger on his lips, "Don't you want to show me?"

"What?"

"The awards."

Boris pushed him playfully on the bed and unbuttoned his trousers.

"Later. Now I have something better to show you."

Valery's joyful laughter turned into a whimper when Boris lay down on him.

Afterwards, Boris showed him the awards.

Valery marveled at how heavy and shining they were, and traced with his fingertips Boris' name engraved on the plate.

"Do you already know where to put them?"

"I was thinking of a shelf in the living room."

“Not here in the bedroom? They would be the first thing you see when you open your eyes in the morning."

Boris took his chin between his fingers and kissed him: "There is only one thing I want to see when I open my eyes: you."

Valery smiled and placed a hand on Boris’.

"Are we going to discuss moving in together?"

"Is there really anything to discuss?"

This time it was Valery who stretched his neck to kiss him.

"No, there isn’t."

  
  


POST-CREDITS SCENES

Valery moved to Boris' apartment, but decided to keep his old one and use it to give private lessons to students.

Nestor and his friends had spread the word and many students lined up to attend the lessons Valery held when he wasn't in the lab.

One afternoon, as Valery sat in his office, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Legasov?" said a dry voice.

"It’s me, who’s speaking?"

"The dean of the University, Smirnov."

"Oh, do you need anything?" Valery asked in a neutral voice.

"Here, your replacement has found another job, so..." the man was reluctant to speak, as if every word cost him great pain. Swallowing pride to make that phone call surely hadn’t been easy for the dean, but given how he was treated, Valery didn't help him.

"So?" he asked, lighting a cigarette: if the dean wanted something from him, he had to say it.

"So if you want, you could go back to teaching here."

Valery thought about it: private lessons weren’t bad, but the number of students who could attend was small. If he came back to the University, he could pass on his knowledge to many more younger people.

He was tempted to keep the dean on his toes, to say that he needed time to think about it, but in the end he just accepted: he was too happy to have his old work back.

However, after hanging up, he wondered what had made the dean change his mind. In that year away from the University Valery had published prestigious articles, his fame had grown, that was sure, but in academic circles he had been known for many years.

A suspicion came to him; he put on his coat and went into the lab, where his assistants were putting away the instruments.

"Guys, the dean called me: he wants me to go back to teaching at the University."

"You accepted, didn't you?" Irina asked, with the same enthusiasm she had when she spoke of Boris Shcherbina.

"Of course I accepted, but did you do something about it? Nestor?"

The boy spread his arms, pretending to be outraged, but couldn’t hide his smile, "Why do I always have to be the evil mind of the group?"

"This time you're wrong, Professor Legasov," Anton said.

"It was you?"

"They are always the quietest ones, Professor, didn't you know?" Nestor laughed.

"How did you do it?" Valery wanted to know.

Anton smiled, “I simply convinced the other students not to follow the lessons of his replacement, showing them how useless they were and telling them he was ruining their future. In the end, he gave lessons in an empty classroom.”

Valery took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, clearly moved.

"I'll never know how to thank you."

"Don’t worry. But if you can treat use with kid gloves for the next exams..." Nestor joked.

Irina crumpled her coat and threw it at him.

"You must always ruin the beautiful moments, you."

  
  


Sitnikov sat in his office with his assistant Garo, and Charkov; they were discussing the next film studio projects that needed to be greenlighted.

The meeting was almost over when the two producers exchanged a nod, and Sitnikov pulled some sheets of paper out of a folder.

"Finally I inform you that Pikalov is writing the script for the second season of _Infinite Impact_."

The lawyer pursed his lips, then sighed, "I hope that the script doesn’t include the character of Ruslan, otherwise the work done by poor Pikalov will have to be thrown away."

"Of course it includes Ruslan, he will be the protagonist again."

"I oppose to this."

"On what basis? Let's hear it,” Garo intervened, leaning against the back of the chair.

"Boris Shcherbina has won some awards, but this doesn’t change the fact that his moral conduct is and remains unseemly and outrageous, you can’t allow him to work with you again!"

Without saying a word, Garo got up, took a plastic basket and spilled a huge amount of letters on the table.

"What is this?"

“Letters from the fans. And that's only the tenth part of what we received." [5]

Sitnikov put his hands on the desk, “It's really that simple: the audience wants other episodes, the director is available, the writer is already at work, the miniseries did so well on the home video circuit that the vhs were sold out two times, therefore, my partners are impatient to produce a new season, and no sane banker who would say no to such a successful production."

From his expression, it seemed that Charkov had been forced to drink a glass of curdled milk.

"If it is so…"

"It is so."

"Very well, I'm going to write the contracts."

The lawyer was already at the door when Garo turned to look at him with a satisfied smile, "And this time don't even bother putting in the morality clause, it would only waste our time having to cross it out later."

The door closed with a considerable slam; Sitnikov and Garo stayed a few seconds and then snickered like two teenagers.

"He is furious."

"Livid."

"C’mon, let's get back to work."

"Get back?" Garo said, lighting a cigarette, "When do we ever stop?"

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It’s about six characters, discarded by their author, who come to life, enter a theater in search of someone to bring them on stage, but none of the actors really understand and grasp them.
> 
> [2] Agostino "Dino" De Laurentiis was a famous Italian film producer, he produced and distributed hundreds of films worldwide.  
> In this fanfiction I have slightly compressed the time needed to nominate a series for a television award: in reality the nominations are made months before, and if a series comes out close to the award season, eventually it will compete for the award the following year.  
> I didn’t include SAGs in the list of awards, because they were born only in 1995, nor the Golden Globes, because they have existed as TV awards since 1990, while my story is set in the ‘80s.  
> Golden camera is a German award.
> 
> [3] One of the longest-running German TV series, a detective story broadcast on the ZDF from 1981 to 2013 (and returned in 2014 with a reboot and new characters).
> 
> [4] Michael John Gambon actually won a Bafta in 1987 for that role. The singing detective was nominated for best series, but The life and love of a She-Devil won.
> 
> [5] Once it was common for fans to send physical letters to film studios or actors’ agents. Before social media, it was the only way to get in touch with those who worked in the entertainment world.  
> And for the studios, letters were the only way to measure the audience liking, beyond the ratings, and sometimes they had a noticeable impact. Star Trek TOS should have ended with the second season because of unsatisfactory ratings, but NBC was literally flooded with letters of complaint from the fans, and it greenlighted another season.


End file.
